i 


.3^ 


y//^/  »-  /^/^ 


r^y. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://wWw.archive.org/details/ato.nethirtyOOostriala 


At  One -Thirty 


OP  CALIF.  LIBRARY.   LOS  AlfGELES 


Cain  ! " 


AT  ONE-THIRTY 

A  MYSTERY 


BY 

ISABEL  OSTRANDER 


ILLUSTRATIONS   BY 

W.    W.    FAWCETT 


NEW  YORK 

GROSS  ET     &      DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1915,  bt 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  The  Passing  of  Garret  Appleton..  5 

II    The  Instrument  of  Death 22 

III  Lies 42 

IV  The  Sisters 6a 

V    *'Cain!" 79 

VI    The  Cuff-Link 94 

VII    Thirty  Pieces  of  Silver 109 

VIII  In  the  Watches  of  the  Night.  . . .  124 

IX    Doris 138 

X    A  New  Turning 152 

XI    At  Hanrahan's  Suggestion 163 

XII     Devious  Ways 185 

XIII  The  End  of  a  False  Scent 204 

XIV  A  Glimmer  of  Light 222 

XV  At  Half-Past  Four  in  the  Morning  241 

XVI    Natalie 261 

XVII     Failure  and  Victory 281 

XVIII    Aftermath 297 

3 


2131.85f> 


At  One -Thirty 


AT  ONE-THIRTY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    PASSING   OF   GARRET  APPLETON 

RISING  from  his  chair,  Damon  Gaunt  crossed 
the  library  to  the  window,  and  flung  it 
wide,  drinking  in  the  sultry  air  of  early 
autumn  as  though  he  loved  it,  listening  to  the 
familiar  noises  of  the  street  with  ears  eagerly  at- 
tuned. Although,  in  passing,-  he  had  touched  the 
different  articles  of  furniture  in  his  path  casually 
and  lightly,  with  those  long,  slim,  wonderfully 
sensitive  fingers  of  his,  it  had  been  but  absent- 
mindedly,  not  gropingly  hesitant,  and  it  was  not 
until  one  looked  straight  and  level  into  his 
soft,  deep-brown  eyes  that  one  realized  they  were 
sightless. 

He  sighed  deeply  as  he  stood  at  the  window, 
his  fingertips  touching  delicately  here  and  there 
the  trailing  tendrils  of  ivy  that  reached  out  boldly 
from  the  trellised  vine,  which  clambered  over  the 
brick  walls  of  the  house.  No  man  loved  life — 
vibrant,  pulsating  life — more  than  Damon  Gaunt, 
nor  more  deeply  yearned  to  know  it  to  the  full. 

5 


6  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

But  he  had  never  permitted  himself  to  regret  the 
sight,  which  from  birth  had  been  denied  to  him, 
save  In  his  life-work,  the  detection  of  crime. 

The  man's  condition  and  his  career  would  seem 
In  themselves  to  be  paradoxical.  How  a  being 
deprived  of  one  of  the  senses — by  the  majority 
considered  the  most  essential — could  engage,  and 
successfully,  In  a  profession  that  required  every 
attribute,  every  resource,  known  to  mankind,  de- 
veloped to  the  nth.  degree,  seemed  Inexplicable. 
Yet  Damon  Gaunt  had  never  lost  a  case. 

He  turned  suddenly  from  the  window,  and  stood 
expectant,  although  no  sound  audible  to  the  normal 
ear  had  broken  the  stillness  within  the  house.  In 
a  moment,  however,  a  softly  treading  footfall 
might  have  been  heard  on  the  carpeted  hall; 
there  was  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  then  a  quick 
tap  at  the  door,  accompanied  by  an  Involuntary 
deferential  cough. 

Damon  Gaunt  smiled  slightly  to  himself.  He 
had  never  been  able  to  break  Jenkins  of  that  un- 
necessary note  of  warning. 

"Come  in!"  he  said. 

Jenkins  entered,  with  a  small  salver  in  his  hand. 

"Card,  sir.     Gentleman  to  see  you." 

Gaunt  approached,  and  took  the  card  from  the 
salver.  The  corners  of  his  mobile,  smooth-shaven 
mouth  twitched  again.  He  had  at  least  succeeded 
in  breaking  Jenkins  of  the  habit  of  shoving  things 
into  his  hand. 


THE  PASSING  OF  GAERET  APPLETON  7 

His  fingertips  traveled  over  the  heavily  engraved 
card;  but  the  lettering  upon  it  was  too  elaborate 
for  his  sense  of  touch  to  spell  for  him.  He  turned 
to  a  large  writing-desk  in  a  corner. 

"Miss  Barnes,  the  name,  please." 

A  tall,  angular,  precise  young  woman  came  for- 
ward, and  took  the  card  from  his  hand. 

"Mr.  Yates  Appleton." 

"Yates  Appleton?"  What  was  it  that  the  name 
seemed  vaguely  to  convey?  Oh,  yes!  Something 
his  secretary,  Miss  Barnes,  had  read  to  him  in  the 
morning  papers,  lately.  The  man  had  tried  unsuc- 
cessfully to  break  a  will,  or  something  of  the  sort. 
He  must  be  looked  up  later,  perhaps. 

"Show  him  up,  please,  Jenkins." 
Yes,  sir. 

Without  a  word,  Miss  Barnes  gathered  up  her 
papers,  and  passed  into  an  inner  room,  and  Gaunt 
seated  himself  in  a  deep  leather  chair,  and  waited. 
Presently,  returning  footfalls  could  be  heard — 
Jenkin's  regular,  cat-like  tread,  and  shorter,  ner- 
vous, uneven  steps  accompanying  him.  Both 
paused  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,  Mr.  Appleton.  That  will  do,  Jen- 
kins.    I'll  ring  if  we  need  you." 

Mr.  Appleton  crossed  the  threshold,  dropped  the 
cane  he  was  carrying  with  a  clatter  upon  the  floor, 
retrieved  it,  and  stood  before  Gaunt's  chair.  He 
was  a  man  of  perhaps  the  early  thirties,  slightly 
thick  of  neck  and  girth,  slightly  bald,  with  a  round. 


8  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

puffy  pink  face,  and  round,  staring  blue  eyes.  Just 
now,  the  face  was  mask-like  with  horror,  and  the 
eyes  were  telescoped,  like  those  of  a  defunct  crab; 
but  of  these  indications  Gaunt  was,  of  course,  in 
ignorance. 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Appleton,"  he  said,  composedly, 
"and  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

Mr.  Appleton  laid  his  hat  and  stick  upon  the 
writing-table,  snifl&ng  nervously  as  he  did  so,  and 
seated  himself. 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  I've  come  on  a  terrible  affair.  My 
brother.  Garret  Appleton,  was  found  dead  this 
morning,  in  his  den,  with  a  bullet  in  his  heart! 
He'd  been  murdered  in  the  night!" 

The  young  man  shuddered,  and  licked  his  dry 
lips,  his  nostrils  twitching. 

"Murdered I     Did  anyone  hear  the  shot  fired?" 

"No.  That's  the  strangest  part  of  it,  although 
it's  a  huge  house,  and  the  servants  all  sleep  away 
up-stairs,  above  the  rooms  of  the  family  and  guests, 
and  the  den  is  on  the  ground  floor,  at  the  back. 
It's  an  awful  thing  Mr.  Gaunt,  awful!  It's  just 
about  going  to  kill  my  mother — the  notoriety,  and 
all!" 

"Notoriety !    And — grief? " 

"Oh,  yes,  grief,  of  course.  That  was  what  I 
meant."  He  sniffed  again,  as  he  spoke,  and  rubbed 
his  blunt,  snout-like  nose  with  his  gloved  finger. 

"Was  the  weapon  found?" 

"No,  certainly  not!    How  would  it  be?    It  was 


THE  PASSING  OF  GARRET  APPLETON  9 

murder,  I  tell  you — murder!  The  man — ^whoever 
it  was — carried  the  revolver  away  with  him,  of 
course.  The  motive  was  robbery,  that  was  plain — 
the  window  was  open  and  my  brother's  watch, 
\  purse,  and  jewelry  gone."  Mr.  Appleton  sniffed. 
'  **My  mother  wanted  me  to  come  at  once  for  you, 
before  the  police  get  trying  to  rake  up  family 
scandal.     My  car  is  outside — " 

"I  understand.  Very  well,  then,  Mr.  Appleton, 
we  will  go  at  once."  Gaunt  rose,  and  pressed  a 
button  in  the  wall.  "  But  just  a  word,  first,  be- 
fore we  start.  I  say  this  for  your  own  good.  You 
will  need  all  your  wits  about  you,  and  all  your 
nerve,  if  I'm  not  mistaken.  Take  some  disinterested 
advice,  and  go  a  little  light  on  that  cocaine  for  the 
next  few  days." 

Young  Mr.  Appleton  gave  a  violent  start,  and 
drew  in  his  breath  sharply. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean!"  he  blustered. 

"Your  constant  sniffing  and  rubbing  your  nose 
gave  you  away,"  Gaunt  explained,  quietly. 

Mr.  Appleton  crumpled. 

"Oh,  well,  it  isn't  a  habit  with  me,  3.nywzy.  I 
started  in  my  college  days,  just  for  a  lark.  I  can 
give  it  up  whenever  I  want  to,  without  the  slightest 
trouble  in  the  world!" 

"Then  I  should  advise  you  to  do  so  speedily. 
Jenkins,  my  hat  and  coat." 

Speeding  up-town  in  the  fast  motor,  Gaunt 
turned  to  his  new  client. 


10  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"Mr.  Appleton,  In  undertaking  your  case,  you 
must  know  that  I  demand  the  absolute  confidence 
of  those  by  whom  I  am  employed.  There  must 
be  no  retaining  of  facts,  no  half-measures.  The 
questions  I  ask  must  be  answered,  whether  they 
seem  relevant  or  not,  fully  and  truthfully,  with  no 
reservations.     Is  that  understood?" 

"Why,  y-yes,  of  course,  Mr.  Gaunt;  that  goes 
without  saying.  We  want  you  to  find  out  the 
t-truth!" 

"How  many  are  there  in  the  family — the  im- 
mediate family?" 

"The  household,  you  mean?  My  mother,  my 
brother  and  his  wife,  his  wife's  sister,  and  myself. 
But  my  mother  and  I  are  staying  there  only  tem- 
porarily, while  our  own  house  is  being  done  over." 

"That  is  all  except  the  servants?     No  guests?" 

"None  staying  in  the  house.  There  were  some 
people  there  last  evening,  old  family  friends. 
The  police  are  at  the  house,  now,"  he  added  with 
nervous  irrelevance.  "Infernal  nuisance,  this  whole 
terrible  affair!  My  mother  relies  upon  you  to 
prevent  as  much  of  the  fuss  and  bother  as  you 
can. 

"The  fuss  and  bother,  as  you  term  it,  are,  I  am 
forced  to  tell  you,  indispensable  in  a  case  of  sudden 
and  violent  death,  from  whatever  cause — doubly 
so  when  crime  is  in  question.  They  are  very 
necessary  to  the  cause  of  justice.  Mr.  Appleton, 
you  speak  of  the  possibility  of  the  police  raking 


THE  PASSING  OF  GAERET  APPLETON  11 

Up    family    scandal.     What    scandal    is    there    for 
them  to  discover?" 

"None,  really."  Mr.  Appleton  sniffed  hastily. 
''The  only  thing  is,  one  doesn't  care  to  have  family 
jars  and  unpleasantness  brought  to  light.  My 
mother  and  I  dishke — that  is,  we  don't  get  on  at 
all  with  Garret's  wife  and  her  sister,  and  there  have 
been  dissensions  lately — rows,  if  you  like  that 
better — which  the  police  might  try  to  make  moun- 
tains out  of.  That's  all.  Every  family  has  that 
sort  of  thing — rows.  But  the  police  are  so  stupid 
they  might  try  to  look  beyond  the  very  obvious 
cause." 

"  I  understand,  perfectly.     By  whom  was  the 
body  discovered,  and  when  ?  " 

"  At  about  half-past  six  this  morning."  Mr. 
Appleton  replied  to  the  last  part  of  the  question 
first.  "Katie,  the  housemaid,  came  down  to 
straighten  the  room,  and  found  my  brother  lying 
dead  on  the  floor,  and  her  screams  aroused  the 
whole  house." 

"You  awakened  with  the  rest,  and  rushed  down?" 

"No-o.  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I'm  not  a  light 
sleeper  at  any  time,  and  I'd  been  out  pretty  late 
last  night.  It  was  some  time  after  Katie  found 
my  brother's  body  before  the  commotion  wakened 
me,  and  quite  awhile  before  I  roused  from  my 
sleepy  stupor  enough  to  realize  that  something 
unusual  was  going  on.  When  I  did  get  down- 
stairs, I  found  all  the  household  collected  in  the 


12  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

den,  and  most  of  the  servants  crowded  in  the  door- 
way. Mother  had  sent  for  the  doctor;  but  any- 
one could  have  seen  it  would  be  of  no  use.  NataHe, 
my  brother's  wife,  was  in  a  state  of  collapse,  and 
Barbara,  her  sister,  was  attending  her.  Garret 
was  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  face  all 
distorted  and  gray,  and  his  eyes  staring,  and  there 
was  a  great  splashing  blood-stain  on  his  shirt- 
front.  But  I'll  never  forget  the  look  on  his  face. 
It  was  the  most  horrible  I  have  ever  seen.  .  .  .  Here 
we  are  now,  Mr.  Gaunt,"  he  added,  as  the  car  slowed 
down,  and  then  stopped,  with  a  jerk.     "  This  way.'* 

He  led  the  detective  swiftly  through  the  lines 
of  pohce,  sternly  holding  back  the  curious  rabble 
of  morbid  sight-seers,  up  the  great  stone  steps, 
and  the  massive  vestibule  doors  closed  behind  them. 
There  was  a  subdued,  soundless  stir,  a  tenseness 
in  the  air  of  the  silent  house,  which  led  unmistak- 
ably in  one  direction,  and  was  more  acutely  mani- 
fest to  the  detective  than  to  the  drug-dulled  per- 
ceptions of  his  companion. 

At  the  door  of  the  den,  they  paused,  and  young 
Mr.  Appleton  hung  back,  his  breath  coming  in  great 
gasps,  his  hand  clutching  Gaunt's  arm  in  a  sud- 
den, involuntary  grip  of  nervous  terror  and  dread, 
only  to  be  as  quickly  withdrawn. 

"Mr.  Gaunt!  How  does  it  happen  that  you 
are  here?     I'm  glad  you've  come." 

A  man's  step  sounded,  and  a  large,  powerful  hand 
gripped  the  detective's  in  a  hearty  grasp. 


THE  PASSING  OF  GARRET  APPLETON  13 

*'  Coroner  Hildebrand!"  Gaunt's  exclamation  of 
pleasure  at  a  well  known  voice,  with  a  certain 
admixture  of  relief  at  the  scarcely  expected  presence 
of  a  friend  and  former  ally  on  more  than  one  dif- 
jficult  case,  was  interrupted  by  a  woman's  voice — 
the  coldest,  most  implacably  hardened,  that  he  had 
ever  heard. 

"  I  sent  for  Mr.  Gaunt,  Coroner,"  the  voice 
said.  "I  wish  him  to  represent  my  interests  and 
those  of  my  family  In  this  most  shocking,  most 
terrible  affair."  There  was  the  rustle  of  a  silk 
garment,  and  the  voice  sounded  again,  this  time 
close  to  Gaunt's  side.  "  I  am  Mrs.  Appleton,  Mrs. 
Finlay  Appleton,  the  mother — "  The  voice  broke 
oddly,  and  there  was  a  strained  silence.  It  was 
not  the  break  of  emotion,  of  uncontrollable  maternal 
emotion  face  to  face  with  tragedy.  There  was 
more  an  element  of  craft  In  it,  as  if  a  sudden  thought, 
an  excess  of  caution,  had  sealed  her  lips.  Yet  her 
sentence  seemed  to  have  been,  on  the  face  of  it, 
simple  enough :  she  had  started  to  say  that  she  was 
the  mother  of  the  dead  man.  Why  had  she  checked 
herself? 

"I  am  glad  to  have  come,  If  I  can  be  of  any 
assistance,  Mrs.  Appleton."  Gaunt  said,  after 
waiting  vamly  an  appreciable  moment  for  her  to 
continue.  "  I  shall  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with 
you  later,  as  well  as  with  the  other  members  of  your 
family  and  the  servants;  but  just  now  my  business 
lies    with    Coroner    Hildebrand.     Coroner,    you've 


U  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

Stretched  a  point  before  this  far  me.  May  I  ex- 
amine the  body,  if  I  disarrange  nothing?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  think  so,  Mr.  Gaunt.  The  body 
is  still  here  in  the  chair.  Nothing  has  been  dis- 
turbed except  by  the  physician's  cursory  examina- 
tion— nothing  more  was  necessary.  The  man's  been 
dead  for  hours,  shot  through  the  heart." 

"Oh,  I  knew  the  body  was  still  here."  Gaunt 
smiled.  "There  is  a  certain  shght,  but  unmistak- 
able, odor  about  death,  even  when  so  short  a  time 
has  elapsed  after  it  has  taken  place,  which  is  plainly 
evident  to  a  nose  trained  for  it." 

"To  your  nose,  you  mean,"  returned  the  Coroner, 
as  the  two  men  moved  toward  the  grim  chair  with 
its  silent  occupant. 

Now  a  new  sound  broke  upon  the  significant 
stillness.  It  was  a  woman's  heart-rending  sob, 
long  drawn  out,  as  if  pent  up  beyond  the  limit  of 
human  endurance,  and  rising  in  the  crescendo  of 
ungovernable  hysteria. 

"Oh-h-!"  the  moan  ended  in  a  shriek  of  despair. 
**This  is  horrible — I  cannot  bear  it  another  moment! 
I  shall  go  mad — mad!" 

"Natalie!"  the  calm,  cutting  voice  of  the  elder 
Mrs.  Appleton  fell  like  a  dash  of  icy  water  on  the 
agonized  wail.  "If  you  have  no  respect  for  the 
living,  at  least  try  to  show  some  for  the  dead.  This 
is  no  fitting  time  and  place  to  indulge  your  undis- 
ciplined, selfish  emotions," 

"Oh,   hush,   dearest — please,   please   hush!"    It 


THE  PASSING  OF  GARRET  APPLETON  15 

was  a  third  woman's  voice,  low,  slightly  husky, 
vibrant  with  the  deepest  tenderness  and  a  con- 
trolled passion.  If  the  voice  of  the  elder  Mrs. 
Appleton  had  impressed  Gaunt  as  being  the  most 
rigidly  unfeeling  he  had  ever  heard,  that  of  the  last 
speaker  was  the  most  eloquent  of  the  music  of  the 
soul.  He  had  never  In  all  his  career  heard  a  human 
voice  with  so  subtle  and  poignant  an  appeal.  Here 
was  a  woman  who  would  be  true  and  loyal  to  the 
core,  and  who  had  a  capacity  for  loving,  if  her 
low,  throbbing  tones  did  not  belie  her,  to  the  utter- 
most abnegation  of  self.  He  had  no  difficulty 
in  his  own  mind  in  placing  the  two  voices.  The 
one,  raised  high  and  shrill  in  an  abandonment  of 
hysterical  despair,  had  yet  in  its  cadence  the  drawl- 
ing sweetness  of  the  lower,  more  vibrant  tones. 
They  were  the  sisters,  the  two  with  whom  the 
elder  Mrs.  Appleton  and  her  living  son  did  not "  get 
on";  the  one  trembling  in  hysteria  was  the  widow  of 
the  murdered  man,  and  the  other  was  the  sister-in- 
law,  whom  Yates  Appleton  had  called  Barbara. 

There  was  a  sudden  whirl,  a  soft  rustle,  and  some- 
thing hurled  itself  violently  between  Gaunt  and  the 
Coroner,  laying  a  small  icy  hand  on  each.  Implor- 
ingly. 

"Oh,  you  will  let  me  go  to  my  room?"  the  hys- 
terical voice  sobbed,  plaintively.  "  I  can't  stand 
.  any  more — indeed.  Indeed,  I  cannot!  How  can  I 
be  expected  to  endure  it  here  another  moment, 
with  his  eyes  staring  at  me  so  horribly?" 


16  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"It  will  be  best  for  her  to  go,  if  you  please," 
put  in  the  low,  vibrant  tones.  "There  are  reasons 
why  my  sister's  strength  must  not  be  over- 
taxed any  more  than  necessary,  just  now.  I  will 
answer  for  her  presence  when  you  wish  to  question 
her." 

"And  I  desire  my  daughter-in-law  to  remain. 
Her  proper  place  is  beside  the  body  of  her  hus- 
band. You  are  beginning  early.  Miss  Ellerslie, 
to  issue  orders  in  my  son's  house!"  The  voice  of 
the  elder  Mrs.  Appleton  did  not  tremble,  but  it 
vibrated  harshly  with  her  unconcealable  animosity, 
like  jangling  wires. 

"This  is  my  sister's  house  now,  Mrs.  Appleton.'* 
The  low,  soft  tones,  with  the  little  drawl,  were 
courteous;  but  there  was  now  an  undertone  of  the 
passion  of  which  Gaunt  had  felt  the  possibility, 
although  it  was  under  admirable  control.  "My 
sister  has  been  tortured  enough.  Have  we  your 
permission  to  retire.  Coroner  Hildebrand?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Ellerslie,  I  wish  you  would  all  do  so, 
please — you,  Mrs.  Appleton  and  Mr.  Appleton, 
also.  I  wish  to  make  a  thorough  examination  of 
this  room,  with  Mr.  Gaunt  and  the  Inspector. 
We  will  interview  you  later." 

Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton  opened  her  lips  to  protest; 
but,  realizing  that  she  was  endangering  her  dignity 
by  a  further  exhibition  of  ill-nature,  she  led  the 
way  haughtily  from  the  room,  her  son  following 
with  evident  relief  in  her  wake,  and  the  group  of 


THE  PASSING  OF  GARRET  APPLETON  17 

open-mouthed  servants  clustered  at  the  door  dis- 
appearing like  chafF  in  her  path. 

The  four  men  were  alone;  the  quiet,  spare  figure 
of  Gaunt,  the  Coroner,  and  a  burly  Inspector, 
and  stolid-looking  officer,  who  had  stood  silently 
at  one  side  during  the  preceding  scene. 

"Who  is  it — Inspector  Hanrahan?"  asked  Gaunt, 
with  a  swift  smile. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Gaunt.     How  are  you,  sir?" 

"I  thought  I  recognized  the  brand  of  your  tobacco 
— and  isn't  Officer  Dooley  here?  I  know  that  asth- 
matic breathing  of  his," 

Officer  Dooley  grinned  and  shifted  from  one 
foot  to  another  like  a  bashful  boy. 

"If  you  don't  train  down,  Dooley,  you  will  be 
too  fat  for  the  force,  before  you  know  it.  Now 
for  business.  Coroner.  Any  possible  idea  at  what 
time  Mr.  Garret  Appleton  met  his  death?" 

"No,  Mr.  Gaunt.  I  should  say,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  one  o'clock,  but  of  course  we  can't  be 
absolutely  certain." 

Gaunt  had  approached  the  body,  and  was  pas- 
sing his  fingers  lightly  and  thoroughly  over  it. 

"No  doubt  about  robbery  being  the  motive?'* 
he  asked,  as  he  worked. 

"Oh,  no,"  the  Inspector  put  in,  easily.  "No 
weapon  found,  window  open,  tracks  before  window 
in  the  carpet  and  on  the  curtains,  and  Mr.  Apple- 
ton's  jewelry  and  money  gone." 

"I    understand."     Gaunt   bent   and    sniffed    the 


18  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

powder-blackened  shirt  about  the  wound.  "Looks 
as  if  Mr.  Appleton  might  have  recognized,  or 
thought  he  recognized,  the  thief,  doesn't  it,  when 
he  let  him  get  as  near  as  he  did  to  shoot  him, 
I  without  attempting  to  get  on  his  feet,  or  make 
i  any  outcry?" 

"Maybe  he  did  jump  to  his  feet,  and  fell  back 
again  when  he  was  shot?"  suggested  the  Inspector, 
thoughtfully. 

"Hardly,  seeing  the  way  he  was  clutching  the 
arms  of  the  chair.  Even  death  didn't  release 
that  vise-like  grip.  He  might  have  clutched  his 
breast  when  the  shot  tore  its  way  through  him, 
if  he  had  had  time.  No,  it  looks  as  if  he's  been 
sitting  there  a  long  time,  grasping  the  arms  of 
his  chair,  and  the  end  found  him  without  the 
movement  of  a  muscle.  Then  there's  another 
thing." 

Gaunt  was  talking  very  fast  now,  but  his  fingers 
were  working  faster,  darting  with  lightning-like 
rapidity  over  the  dead  man's  clothing. 

"Whoever  robbed  him,  made  a  pretty  thorough 
job  of  it.  They  evidently  weren't  afraid  of  being 
disturbed  at  their  work,  and  that  seems  strange, 
when  a  revolver  presumably  lay  smoking  on  the 
table  and  the  reverberations  of  its  explosion  must 
still  be  echoing  through  the  sleeping  house.  They 
didn't  tear  out  the  vest-  or  cuff-buttons,  or  the 
shirt-studs,  but  removed  them  carefully,  although 
with  bungling  fingers,  as  you  can  feel,  here,  and 


THE  PASSING  OF  GAERET  APPLETON  19 

here.     And — ^walt!     That's   a   curious   thing   about 
the  inside  of  the  vest-pocket." 

*'What  is.?"  asked  Coroner  Hildebrand. 

**Never  mind,  I'll  look  into  that  later.  Got  a 
list  of  the  missing  jewelry,  money,  watch,  and  all 
that?" 

"Inspector  Hanrahan  has,  of  course.     He — " 

"Well,  I  don't  want  it  now.  This  the  window 
which  was  found  open  after  the  bird  had  flown?" 

Gaunt  felt  his  way  over  to  the  window,  felt  the 
sill  and  the  fastenings,  and  the  velvet  and  lace 
hangings,  and  the  rich  pile  of  the  carpet  at  his 
feet.  When  he  encountered  there  some  sticky, 
congealed  wet  places,  he  knealt  and  smelt  them, 
kneading  his  hands  in  the  damp  velvet. 

When  he  rose  and  turned,  his  usually  impassive 
face  was  alive  with  interest — a  very  different 
interest  from  that  which  had  glowed  upon  it  when 
he  stood  in  his  library  window  in  the  early  morn- 
ing. Now,  it  was  keener,  more  poignant,  and 
there  was  nothing  in  it  of  pleasurable  sensation — 
rather,  a  sharp  mental  interest.  He  came  slowly 
back  to  that  figure  io  the  chair,  wiping  his  hands 
carefully  on  his  handkerchief  as  he  did  so,  while 
the  other  men  watched  him  in  a  sort  of  fascination, 
as  silent  as  it  was  intent. 

Then  he  took  the  cold  head  in  his  hands,  feeling 
its  shape  with  the  trained,  sure  delicacy  of  a  sur- 
geon, a  phrenologist.  His  deft  fingers  passed 
downward  more  softly,  more  gently  over  the  dead 


20  AT  ONE-THIETT 

features,  tracing  each  strained  muscle  each  curve 
and  angle,  seeing,  with  his  ten  marvelous  eyes  of 
the  fifth  sense,  the  expression  on  the  face  of  the 
murdered  man. 

At  length,  he  turned  to  where  the  others  stood. 

"Well?"  the  Inspector's  voice  grated  with  sus- 
pense in  the  silence.  "Found  out  anything,  Mr. 
Gaunt?" 

"A  little,  though  I  haven't  begun  to  examine 
the  room  thoroughly  yet.  There  are  a  lot  of  queer 
features  about  this  case,  which  you  mayn't  have 
found  time  to  go  into.  In  the  first  place,  those 
tracks  over  there  at  the  window  were  not  made 
by  muddy  feet,  but  bloody  hands." 

"Of  course,"  the  Coroner  returned,  impatiently, 
**we  know  that.  Those  traces  were  left  by  the 
murderer,  going  out." 

"How  about  coming  in?  He  didn't  leave  any 
traces  then,  although  it  rained  hard  last  night, 
and  there's  soft  loam  and  top  soil  in  the  garden 
beneath  this  window.  I  can  smell  the  late  autumn 
flowers.  Again,  the  window  was  opened  from  the 
inside,  not  out,  and  the  person  who  opened  it  was 
afraid,  not  of  taking  his  time  about  it,  but  of  making 
a  noise;  for  he  opened  the  catch  of  the  window  in 
the  proper  way,  and  then  painstakingly  bent  and 
twisted  it  with  some  blunt  instrument  to  give  it  the 
appearance  of  having  been  forced,  though,  had  he 
dared  make  any  noise,  he  could  have  shattered  it 
with    a    single    blow.     And    moreover,    gentlemen. 


THE  PASSING  OF  GAEEET  APPLETON         21 

that  blood  about  the  window  was  not  fresh  blood, 
wiped  from  the  murderer's  red  hands  in  making 
good  his  escape.  It  was  stale,  congealed  blood 
when  it  was  applied  to  the  carpet  and  curtains. 
When  the  window  was  forced  and  the  semblance 
of  robbery  and  escape  given  to  the  scene  of  murder 
in  this  room,  Garret  Appleton  had  already  been 
dead  for  some  hours." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    INSTRUMENT   OF   DEATH 

THE  men  looked  at  one  another. 
"How    do    you    know    that — about    the 
blood,  I  mean?"  demanded  the  Inspector, 
bluntly.     "How  can  you  tell?" 

"Feel  it,  man,  feel  it!"  returned  Gaunt.  "It*s 
dried  in  thick,  raised,  sticky  clots.  And,  unless 
I'm  mistaken,  it  wasn't  brushed  there  by  the  hand 
of  the  murderer,  but  was  deliberately  wiped  there, 
placed  there  hours  after  the  murder." 

The  Coroner  strode  to  the  window. 

"Mr.  Gaunt  is  right,"  he  cried.  "Come  here. 
Inspector!  It  looks  like  a  deliberate  and  very 
clumsy  attempt  to  brand  the  crime  as  an  outside 
job.  It  must  have  been  for  robbery,  of  course; 
one  of  the  servants,  probably.  But  why  the 
fellow  should  have  waited  for  hours  before  prepar- 
ing his  alibi,  running  the  risk  of  some  one  discover- 
ing the  crime  in  the  meantime,  is  beyond  me.  Also, 
what  has  become  of  the  jewels  and  the  weapon — 
but  they'll  come  to  light,  of  course." 

"I'll  have  the  house  searched  at  once,  and  the 
servants  questioned;  put  through  the  third  degree, 
if  necessary!"  Inspector  Hanrahan  replied,  ex- 
citedly. 

22 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  23 

Gaunt  had  been  stooping,  feeling  about  on  the 
floor  before  the  chair  in  which  the  dead  man  sat, 
and,  at  the  Inspector's  words,  he  rose,  his  long 
fingers  slipping  for  an  instant  into  his  waistcoat- 
pocket.  He  had  discovered  upon  the  floor  before 
the  chair  three  tiny  hard  globules,  like  irregular 
pearls. 

"I  wouldn't  do  that.  Inspector,"  he  suggested, 
mildly.  "At  least,  searching  the  house  won't  do 
any  harm;  but  don't  question  the  servants  in  such 
a  manner  that  you'll  lead  any  of  them  to  suspect 
that  you  don't  think  this  was  an  outside  job.  If 
you  do,  you  may  defeat  your  own  ends."  He 
turned  to  the  Coroner.  "You'll  have  an  autopsy 
performed  immediately,  I  suppose?  I'd  hke  to 
know  at  once,  if  you'll  tell  me,  what  caliber  and 
make  cartridge  was  used." 

"I'll  let  you  know  gladly.  You'll  be  here  all 
day.?" 

"Yes.  I  want  to  make  a  more  thorough  exam- 
ination of  the  room  now,  and  then  I  should  like  to 
speak  to  some  members  of  the  family.  That  rob- 
bery theory  still  looks  good,  of  course.  Coroner 
Hildebrand,  if  it  weren't  for  one  thing." 

"What's  that?"  the  Inspector  turned  sharply 
from  the  window. 

"The  dead  man's  face.  Look  at  his  expression. 
Blank  horror  and  craven  fear  are  stamped  upon 
it!" 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  don't  see  what  you  can 


24  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

tell  about  his  expression!'*  Inspector  Hanrahan*s 
voice  held  a  good-natured,  easy  contempt. 

**By  feeling  the  drawn,  contracted  muscles," 
Gaunt  said,  tersely.  He  resented  bitterly  any 
reference  to  the  handicap  nature  had  placed  upon 
him,  yet  he  realized  the  justice  of  the  implica- 
tion. 

"It  may  be  only  the  death-agony,  the  shock, 
you  know,  which  has  distorted  his  face,"  the  Cor- 
oner broke  in  hastily,  soothingly. 

"Look  at  him  yourself.  Coroner  Hildebrand. 
Does  he  look  like  a  man  suddenly  attacked  without 
warning,  or  like  one  who  recognized  his  assailant, 
and  read  his  approaching  fate  in  the  other's  eyes, 
but  felt  powerless  to  avert  it?" 

The  Coroner  was  silent,  and,  with  a  slight  shrug. 
Gaunt  turned  away,  and  bent  over  the  writing- 
table,  his  hands  playing  lightly  among  the  papers 
and  ornaments  it  contained.  From  there,  he  made 
a  circuit  of  the  room,  passing  swiftly  from  one 
article  of  furniture  to  another,  more  as  if  to  orient 
himself  than  with  any  idea  of  a  thorough  examina- 
tion. 

Suddenly  he  paused  before  a  low,  swinging  lamp 
of  ancient  brass,  and  felt  carefully  of  its  jangling 
pendant  ornaments.  From  one  of  these,  a  tiny 
strand  of  hair  hung,  as  if  caught  from  the  un- 
wary head  of  some  feminine  Absalom,  in  passing 
beneath  it.  It  was  a  long  strand  of  but  two  or 
three  fine,  silky  hairs,  and    the    detective  wound 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  25 

them  carefully  around  his  finger,  then  placed 
them  In  the  vest-pocket  with  the  tiny  white 
globules. 

Meanwhile,  the  other  men  went  about  their 
gruesome  task  of  removing  the  body  to  an  adjoin- 
ing room  for  the  autopsy,  and  Gaunt  heard  their 
heavy,  subdued  tread  down  the  hall.  With  silent 
haste,  he  approached  the  door  and  closed  It  softly, 
then  returned  to  the  library-table  in  the  center  of 
the  room,  beside  which  the  body  of  the  murdered 
man  had  been  seated,  and  opened  drawer  after 
drawer,  his  hands  searching  feverishly  among  the 
papers  they  contained,  as  if  seeking  some  object 
he  fully  anticipated  finding.  If  Garret  Appleton 
really  had  known  his  assailant,  and  might  act- 
ually have  feared  for  his  life,  it  was  logical  to  sup- 
pose that  he  might  have  kept  some  weapon  with 
which  to  protect  and,  if  necessary,  defend  himself. 
If  that  weapon  should  happen  to  be  a  revolver, 
of  the  same  caliber  as  that  with  which  he  had 
been  shot — 

The  detective's  fingers  closed  over  a  cold  steel 
object  In  the  lowest  drawer,  and  with  an  exultant 
exclamation  he  drew  it  forth.  It  was  a  revolver. 
He  placed  it  hastily  to  his  nose,  and  sniffed  It,  then, 
with  a  satisfied  air,  he  thrust  it  into  his  hip-pocket, 
and,  when  the  Inspector  reappeared,  he  was  fingering 
iind  smelling  the  hangings  and  pillows  of  the  large, 
richly-upholstered  divan,  about  which  a  peculiar 
heavy  perfume  seemed  to  cling. 


26  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"Well,  IVe  finished  here,"  he  announced.     "Td 
like  to  see  my  client  now." 

"Found  anything  more?"  the  Inspector  asked, 
with  a  grin. 

"No,  nothing.  Guess  your  robbery  theory  goes. 
Interviewed  any  of  the  servants  yet?" 

"Yes;  and,  between  you  and  me,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I 
think  I'm  on  the  right  trail.  From  all  accounts, 
Mr.  Garret  Appleton  wasn't  a  very  pleasant  cus- 
tomer. Dissipated,  he  was,  and  overbearing,  and 
a  bully.  He  led  his  wife  and  everyone  else  pretty 
much  of  a  dog's  life,  and  about  a  month  ago  he 
drove  his  valet,  Louis,  out  of  the  house,  and  the 
man  was  heard  to  vow  that  he'd  get  even.  This 
Louis  was  a  Frenchman,  a  hot-headed  man  him- 
self, and  he  was  very  friendly  with  one  of  the 
maids.  She  might  have  let  him  in  last  night, 
and  he,  only  meaning  to  rob  the  master,  might 
have  murdered  him  without  premeditation.  Of 
course,  this  morning,  seeing  what  he'd  done, 
the  maid  would  be  afraid  to  admit  he  was  here. 
Anyway,  that's  my  theory.  Where  are  you  go- 
ingj"    ^ 

"To  interview  Mrs.  Appleton." 

Gaunt  found  the  object  of  his  search  ensconced 
in  her  morning-room,  and,  if  the  reaction  of  her 
hour  of  silence  and  composure  after  the  shock  of 
the  discovery  of  her  son's  body,  and  the  ensuing 
scene  in  the  den,  had  unnerved  her,  had  brought 
with  it  any  flood  of  tenderness  and  natural  grief. 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  27 

there  was  no  evidence  of  it  in  her  voice  or  manner, 
or  the  steadiness  of  her  hand. 

"You  have  discovered  anything,  Mr.  Gaunt — 
any  clue  to  the  thief  who  killed  my  son  ? " 

"Only  that  he  was  a  most  uncommon  thief,  Mrs. 
Appleton — that  the  manner  of  your  son's  death 
presents  some  very  unusual  features.  As  I  have 
already  informed  Mr.  Yates  Appleton,  in  under- 
taking your  investigation  for  you,  I  must  make 
one  condition — " 

"Your  fee — "  the  elderly  lady  interrupted  him, 
coldly. 

"My  fee  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it. 
That  can  be  arranged  later.  My  condition  is  that 
of  absolute  confidence.  My  questions  must  be 
freely  and  fully  answered,  with  no  quibbling,  no 
half-truths.  If  I  ask  you  to  go  into  family  his- 
tory, your  common  sense  will  tell  you  that  it  is 
through  no  idle  curiosity,  but  a  necessary  measure, 
if  I  am  to  help  you.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  any 
communications  will  be  strictly  confidential.'* 

"I  am  quite  prepared  to  answer  any  questions 
you  may  ask,  Mr.  Gaunt;  although  I  cannot  see 
what  bearing  family  history,  as  you  call  it,  may 
have  upon  a  case  of  robbery  and  murder  so  obviously 
perpetrated  by  a  common  thief."  Mrs.  Appleton's 
voice  was  steady  and  frigid;  but  there  was  an  under- 
lying note  of  uneasiness  not  lost  upon  the  quick 
ears  of  the  detective. 

**You  must  allow  me  to  be  the  best  judge  of  that," 


28  AT  ONE-THIETT 

he  returned  quietly.  "  Mrs.  Appleton,  how  long 
has  your  son  been  married?" 

"Three  years." 

**And  his  wife,  before  her  marriage,  was — " 

•'A  Miss  EIlersHe— Miss  Natalie  Ellerslie." 

"Of  New  York?" 

"No,  of  the  South;  from  Louisville,  Kentucky.'" 

"And,  since  his  marriage,  he  and  his  wife  have 
lived  here?" 

"Yes,  in  this  house.  My  husband  built  and 
gave  it  to  them  for  a  wedding-gift." 

"Mrs.  Appleton,  in  your  opinion,  was  your  son's 
married  Hfe  happy?" 

"Quite  the  reverse.  Understand,  I  am  not  defend- 
ing my  son.  He  has  not  been  a  model  husband 
by  any  means;  but  the  blame  for  that  lies  with 
his  wife  alone.  You  know,  you  must  have  heard, 
what  these  spoiled  penniless  Southern  beauties  are. 
Had  my  son  married  a  woman  of  the  world,  a 
woman  of  his  own  set,  I  may  say  his  own  station, 
she  would  have  known  how  to  make  him  happy, 
to  hold  his  interest.  But  I  fail  to  see  what  all 
this  has  to  do  with  his  murder." 

"She  is  beautiful,  then,  young  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton?"  Gaunt  asked  quietly,  ignoring  her  last  re- 
mark. 

"She  is  considered  so."  The  older  woman's 
tone  was  bitter.  A  certain  blond,  doll-hke  type 
of  prettiness." 

"And  you  disapproved  of  this  marriage?" 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  29 

"Most  heartily,  I  recognized  its  unsuitability 
from  the  first.     And  you  see  how  it  has  ended!" 

"But,  surely,  my  dear  Mrs.  Appleton,  you  do 
not  consider  the  fact  of  your  son's  marriage  to  be 
in  any  way  connected  with  his  death?'*  % 

There  was  a  pause,  and  the  detective  could  hear 
her  rapid  breathing,  her  effort  to  regain  her  iron 
control  of  herself.     At  length  she  spoke: 

"I  do  not,  Mr.  Gaunt.  I  have  been  unable,  since 
you  started  this  line  of  inquiry,  to  connect  it  with 
the  matter  in  hand." 

"I  am  simply  trying  in  my  own  mind  to  com- 
prehend the  relations  the  members  of  your  son's 
household  bear  to  one  another.  He  and  his  wife 
were  unhappy.  Was  that  due  in  part,  do  you 
think,  to  the  presence  of  your  daughter-in-law's 
sister?" 

"In  great  part.  I  see  that  you  fully  understood 
the  significance  of  the  scene  in  the  den,  beside 
my  son's  body  this  morning.  Barbara  Ellerslie  is 
an  interloper.  She  made  her  home  here  in  my 
son's  house,  at  her  sister's  invitation,  and  she  has 
been  the  cause  of  many  unpleasant,  disgraceful 
domestic  scenes,  humoring  Natalie,  aiding  and , 
abetting  her  in  her  senseless  quarrels  and  accusa- 
tions against  Garret,  and  constantly  stirring  up 
strife  between  them.  My  son  could  not  oust  her; 
for  Natalie  would  not  give  her  up.  Naturally, 
Barbara  made  herself  indispensable  to  her  sister, 
in  order  to  enjoy  the  advantages,  social  and  other- 


30  AT  ONE-THIRTT 

wise,  of  living  here,  instead  of  in  the  dull,  shabby- 
genteel  surroundings  of  her  Southern  home." 

"Miss  EUerslie  spoke  just  a  little  while  ago  of 
there  being  a  reason  why  young  Mrs.  Appleton's 
strength  should  not  be  overtaxed  just  now.  Am  I 
to  infer  that — " 

"Natalie  will  in  a  few  months  become  a  mother." 

A  silence  followed  the  terse  statement,  a  silence 
in  which  the  concentrated  bitterness,  and  thwarted 
impotent  hatred,  expressed  unconsciously  in  the 
tone  of  the  few  words,  sank  deep  into  the  detective's 
mind.  It  told  him  volumes,  which  before  he  had 
only  suspected,  and  cleared  the  way  before  him. 

"Mrs.  Appleton,  your  younger  son's  name  has 
been  in  the  papers  lately,  in  connection  with  some 
effort  to  break  a  will.  I  can,  of  course,  learn  all 
about  it  in  detail  by  having  my  secretary  look 
over  my  newspaper  files,  but  I  prefer  to  hear  about 
it  from  you.     Will  you  give  me  the  particulars?" 

There  was  a  stiff,  silken  rustle,  as  the  lady  moved 
restlessly,  uneasily,  in  her  chair,  and  then  a  new 
sound  smote  upon  the  detective's  ears;  a  sharp, 
staccato  tattoo.  Mrs.  Appleton  was  nervously  tap- 
ping the  broad  mahogany  arms  of  her  chair,  with 
the  rounded  tips  of  her  finger  nails.  At  last,  she 
spoke  quickly,  imperiously;  but  the  pause  after  his 
question  had  been  so  lengthy  as  to  rob  her  words 
of  their  desired  significance,  and  betray  her  real 
state  of  mind — her  reluctance  to  discuss  the  new 
topic  he  had  introduced. 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OP  DEATH  31 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  my  son's  murderer  may  be  making 
good  his  escape,  may  be  getting  forever  beyond 
cur  reach,  while  you  are  wasting  time  by  delving 
into  wholly  extraneous  matters.  The  matter  of 
my  late  husband's  will  can  have  no  possible  con- 
nection with  my  son's  murder."  The  cold,  foi>  \ 
bidding  voice  trembled  at  the  end  with  suppressed 
anger  and  latent  agitation. 

Gaunt  shrugged. 

"Then,  you  will  not  tell  me?"  he  insisted.  "You 
will  permit  me  to  use  your  telephone?  I  must  get 
my  secretary  on  the  wire." 

There  was  an  exclamation  of  annoyance  from 
Mrs.  Appleton,  and  the  nervous  tapping  on  the 
chair-arms  quickened  for  a  moment,  then  ceased 
abruptly,  as,  after  a  moment's  pause,  she  spoke: 

"Of  course,  if  you  insist,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  will  teljf 
you.  It  is  nothing  but  what  all  the  world  knows, 
and  it  is  a  maddening  waste  of  time;  but  I  presume 
you  must  pursue  your  own  method.  My  husband 
was  an  old-fashioned  man,  and  the  mode  of  life 
adopted  by  our  two  sons  angered  him  to  the  ex- 
treme. I  disapprove  most  strongly,  of  course,  off 
the  looseness  of  the  lives  of  young  men  nowadays; 
but  I  knew  that  my  sons  were  merely  wild,  not  ' 
evil,  and  would  in  time  marry  suitably  and  settle 
down.  My  husband  took  an  opposite  view,  and 
vowed  he  would  leave  his  fortune  in  trust  for  them, 
that  they  might  never  have  an  opportunity  to 
squander  the  principal.     When,  however,  my  eldest 


32  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

son,  Garret,  became  infatuated  with  Natalie  EllersHe, 
and  married  her,  my  husband  took  an  absurd  fancy 
to  her,  and  felt  that  Garret's  future  was  safe  in 
her  hands;  that  she  would,  as  he  expressed,  *make 
a  man  of  him.' 

"My  own  fortune  was  assured  by  an  ante-nuptial 
agreement,  and  my  husband  left  a  miserable  pit- 
tance— considering  his  great  wealth — to  Yates,  and 
that  in  trust  for  him  for  life,  with  the  Mammoth 
Trust  Company,  that  he  might  never  touch  any 
part  of  it  but  the  interest.  The  rest  of  his  estate 
my  husband  divided  into  halves,  giving  one  share 
to  Garret  ourtight,  the  other  portion  to  be  held 
in  trust  by  the  Mammoth  Company,  together 
with  its  accruing  interest  for  ten  years.  If,  at  the 
end  of  that  period,  Natalie  had  borne  no  child,  that 
portion  was  to  be  divided,  and  one-half  of  it  given 
outright  to  each  of  the  brothers.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  Natalie  had  given  birth  to  a  child,  or  children, 
the  Mammoth  Company  was  to  hold  that  part 
of  the  estate,  not  its  interest,  until  the  children  were 
twenty-one,  and  then  divide  it  among  them.  Do  I 
make  myself  clear?" 

"Perfectly." 

"It  was  a  most  unfair  arrangement,  as  you  can 
see,  and  naturally  Yates  resented  it.  A  few  months 
ago,  when  it  became  an  assured  fact  that  there  was 
to  be  a  child,  Yates  brought  suit — an  entirely 
friendly  suit,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Gaunt — ^jointly 
against  his   brother   and   the  Trust   Company,   to 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  33 

obtain  his  rightful  share  of  the  property  and  full 
control  of  it.  It  was  merely  to  test  the  validity 
of  the  will,  of  course,  and  Yates  lost.  That  is 
absolutely  all  there  is  in  the  story." 

**The  suit  was  entirely  friendly?  There  had  been 
no  serious  quarrels  preceding  it?" 

**0h,  little  discussions,  of  course;  but  only  such 
as  occur  in  all  families  over  money  matters.  The 
suit  was  brought  as  a  perfectly  amicable  arrange- 
ment of  them.  You  can  understand  that  we — 
Yates  and  I — ^would  not  be  living  here  under  my 
eldest  son's  roof  had  it  been  otherwise." 

*'  Ah!  Then,  you  sided  with. your  youngest  son 
in  £he  matter,  Mrs.  Appleton?" 

ihere  was  a  rustle  as  the  lady  gave  a  start  of 
annoyance  at  her  involuntary  slip,  and  the  rapid 
rat-tat  of  the  finger-tips  upon  the  polished  wood 
was  resumed. 

"  I  sided  with  neither — there  was  no  need.  I 
have  told  you  repeatedly  that  it  was  a  perfectly 
amicable  family  arrangement." 

"  Has  this  sudden  tragedy  affected  your  plans 
for  the  immediate  future,  Mrs.  Appleton?" 

Again  the  tapping  ceased. 

"Naturally,  in  the  face  of  the  attitude  adopted 
by  my  daughter-in-law  and  her  sister,  my  son  and 
I  will  not  remain  Another  night  under  this  roof. 
This  afternoon,  I  shall  go  to  the  Blenheim  Hotel, 
to  remain  there  until  my  own  house  Is  ready  to 
receive  me.     An  hour  ago,  my  son  made  arrange- 


34  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

ments,  by  means  of  the  telephone,  to  take  over 
the  bachelor  apartments  of  a  friend,  in  the  Cal- 
thorp." 

"Ah!  Mrs.  Appleton,  you  approve  of  this  move 
of  your  son's?" 

**I?  Approve?"  the  lady's  voice  was  almost 
shrill  in  her  astonishment  at  the  sudden  question; 
but  her  fingers  unconsciously  began  for  the  third 
time  their  agitated  betrayal  upon  the  sounding- 
boards  of  the  chair-arms.  "I  cannot  understand 
your  question,  Mr.  Gaunt.  My  son  is  no  longer 
a  child.  His  personal  plans  are  his  own.  Whether 
he  chooses  to  go  to  the  Calthorp,  or  elsewhere, 
is  of  small  moment  to  me." 

"Then,  it  is  because  of  another  reason  that  your 
son  is  the  cause  of  some  particular  anxiety  to  you, 
just  now?" 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  your  line  of  questioning  is  not  only 
senselessly  irrelevent,  it  is  impertinent!"  Her  in- 
dignation was  growing  beyond  the  bounds  of  her 
studied  self-control. 

But  the  detective  returned,  imperturbably. 

"Every  time,  during  our  present  interview,  Mrs. 
Appleton,  when  my  'line  of  questioning,'  as  you 
term  it,  has  led  toward  your  youngest  son,  you 
have  unmistakably  betrayed  your  agitation." 

"My  agitation?  Would  I,  would  any  mother, 
not  be  agitated  at  such  a  time  as  this,  when  her 
eldest  son  lies  dead,  foully  murdered,  almost  at 
her  feet?     But  you  are  laboring  under  a  strange 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  35 

delusion,  if  you  imagine  that  I  am  especially 
perturbed  at  the  mention  of  my  youngest  son. 
Why  should  such  a  thought  have  entered  your 
mind?" 

For  answer,  he  tapped  lightly,  but  with   sharp 
insistence,  on  the  arms  of  his  own  chair,  and,  after 
tan  instant,  she  comprehended. 

i  **How  absurd!"  she  ejaculated,  with  a  con- 
temptuous shrug  of  her  shoulders;  but  there  was 
a  little  running  note  of  apprehension  in  her  voice. 
"  You  are  super-analytical,  Mr.  Gaunt.  Are  there 
any  further  questions  you  desired  to  ask  me?  I 
need  scarcely  remind  you  again  that  time  presses.'* 

If  he  could  only  have  seen  her  knuckles  whitenj^ 
as  she  clasped  her  hands  in  her  lap,  so  convulsively 
that  the  heavy  rings  cut  cruelly  into  her  wrinkled: 
fingers,  he  might  perhaps  have  pressed  the  matter 
in  spite  of  her  evident  displeasure,  but  instead,, 
he  branched  off  upon  a  new  subject  of  inquiry. 

*'Mrs.  Appleton,  was  your  eldest  son  ever,  to 
your  knowledge,  in  fear  of  his  life?  Had  he  any 
active  enemy?" 

Mrs.  Appleton  opened  her  lips  for  an  indignant 
denial,  when  there  came  an  unexpected  interrup-j 
tion.  There  was  a  sudden  commotion  in  the  hall, 
the  door  was  flung  open,  and  a  girl's  voice  was. 
heard  in  a  shrill  cry  of  horror.  '  The  next  moment,, 
someone  entered  precipitately,  with  a  swirl  of 
silken  skirts,  and  flung  herself  upon  the  elder 
woman. 


.■36  AT  ONE-THIETT 

At  the  same  instant,  a  whifF  of  cloying  Oriental 
perfume,  like  incense,  was  wafted  to  the  sensitive 
nostrils  of  Gaunt. 

"What  is  this  we  have  heard?"  the  same  sharp 
young  voice  cried  out.  *'Mrs.  Appleton,  what 
is  it  that  has  happened?  We  have  heard  horrible 
rumors — they  cannot  be  true!     Is  Garret — " 

**My  dear  child!  My  dear  Doris!"  the  voice 
held  more  a  warning  than  an  appeal  for  sympathy. 
** Garret  is  dead!  He  was  found,  shot,  in  his  den 
this  morning!  I  know  how  badly  you  feel  for  us 
all,  but  you  must  calm  yourself.  You  see  how  I 
am  bearing  up  under  the  blow.  This  is  no  time 
for  breaking  down."  The  cautious  note  seemed 
suddenly  to  deepen  in  significance.  "I  am  talk- 
ing to  Mr.  Gaunt,  whom  I  have  retained  to  investi- 
gate this  terrible  affair  for  us.  Mr.  Gaunt,  this 
young  lady  is  the  daughter  of  an  old  family  friend, 
Judge  Carhart." 

"Garret  dead!"  The  girl's  voice  trembled.  "I 
cannot  believe  it!  I  cannot  realize  it!  Dead! 
And  only  last  night — "  The  voice  ceased,  with 
a  little,  quick  catch  of  the  breath.  Had  she  paused 
because  of  the  fear  that  she  would  break  down 
under  the  stress  of  shock  and  sympathetic  emo- 
tion, or  because  of  a  warning  gesture,  a  pressure 
of  the  arm,  perhaps,  from  Mrs.  Appleton? 

"Judge  Carhart  and  his  daughter  dined  with  us 
last  evening,"  the  elder  woman's  smooth,  hard 
voice  explained   carefully.     "Garret  was  well   and 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  37 

in  the  best  of  spirits.     It  is  difficult  for  the  young 
to  realize — " 

"My  dear  Catherine!  My  poor  old  friend!'* 
a  rich,  full-toned  fatherly  voice  sounded  from  the 
doorway.  "We  have  come,  Doris  and  I,  to  utter 
what  consolation  we  may,  and  give  you  and  yours 
what  aid  lies  in  our  power!  " 

"Ah,  Judge  Carhart,  I  am  so  very  glad  to  see 
you!"  Mrs.  Appleton's  tones  for  the  first  time 
rang  with  a  warm  human  note.  "Come  in,  please, 
This  is  Mr.  Gaunt,  of  whom  you  have  doubtless 
heard.     I  called  him  in  at  once." 

"Mr.  Gaunt!"  The  detective's  hand  was  grasped 
cordially.  "My  old  friend  is  fortunate  to  have 
obtained  your  services.  Your  work,  sir,  in  the  Mar- 
bridge  case,  and  the  Delamater  murders,  came  under 
my  judicial  notice,  and  commanded  my  admira- 
tion. But  you  were  in  consultation  with  Mrs. 
Appleton.     My  daughter  and  I  will  withdraw." 

"B}^  no  means,  Judge  Carhart.  My  interview 
was  almost  at  an  end,  and  I  should  like  to  put  a 
question  or  so  to  you,  if  I  may.  I  understand 
you  and  Miss  Carhart  dined  here  last  evening." 

"We  did,  sir." 

"There  were  other  guests?" 

"No."  It  was  Mrs.  Appleton  who  replied. 
"Only  our  family,  the  Judge,  and  his  daughter." 

"Did  you  notice  anything  unusual  in  Mr.  Apple- 
ton's — Mr.  Garret  Appleton's — appearance,  or  man- 
ner, during  the  evening,  Judge  Carhart?" 


38  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

*'No,  nothing  whatever,"  the  Judge's  tone  held 
a  hint  of  astonishment  at  the  question.  "Did 
you,  Doris?" 

The  girl  caught  her  breath  suddenly,  with  a 
little  hiss,  then  replied  in  a  low,  studiously  con- 
trolled tone. 

"No,  daddy,  of  course  not.  Why  should  there 
have  been?" 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  Coroner  Hildebrand  would  like  to 
speak  to  you."  It  was  Yates  Appleton's  voice, 
breaking  in  upon  them. 

"Ask  him  to  come  in  here — and  you,  too,  Mr. 
Appleton."     Gaunt  leaned  forward  in  his  chair. 

Young  Mr.  Appleton  entered,  followed  by  the 
Coroner,  who  remained  standing  just  within  the 
door,  eying  the  detective  somewhat  doubtfully. 

"Coroner,  the  autopsy  has  been  performed?" 
Gaunt  asked,  sharply.  "You  have  abstracted  the 
bullet?  I  should  like  to  know  at  once  in  the 
presence  of  Judge  Carhart  and  these  members  of 
the  family." 

"It  was  fired  from  a  thirty-two-caliber  revolver, 
Mr.  Gaunt." 

"A  thirty-two — a  thirty-two!"  the  detective  re- 
peated, thoughtfully.  Then,  he  wheeled  suddenly 
toward  where  the  younger  son  was  standing. 

"Mr.  Appleton,  did  your  brother  possess  a  re- 
volver?" 

"Certainly  not!"  the  mother  cut  in  harshly,  be- 
fore her  son  could  answer.     "What  could  lead  you 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  39 

to  suppose  that  Garret  should  have  such  a  thing 
in  his  possession?" 

"Did  he?"  Gaunt  persisted  quietly,  of  the  young 
man.  "It  is  not  uncommon,  you  know,  for  gentle- 
men to  keep  such  a  weapon  in  their  homes,  to  guard 
against  burglars  and  the  like.  Have  you  ever  seen 
a  revolver  in  your  brother's  hands?" 

"I — I  believe  he  did  have  one  somewhere,  now 
that  I  think  of  it,"  Yates  Appleton  admitted, 
sullenly.  There  was  a  quick  sharp  exclamation 
from  his  mother;  but  no  one,  save  perhaps  the 
detective,  noted  it. 

"Was  it  of  thirty-two  caliber?" 

"I  don't  know.  I — I  never  noticed  it  partic- 
ularly." 

"Did  your  brother  ever  fire  it?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of." 

"Did  anyone  else  ever  handle  it?'* 

"I  never  saw  anybody.  My  brother  had  it  a 
long  time.  I  don't  know  why  he  got  it — probably 
for  protection  against  burglars,  as  you  say.  I 
don't  even  know  that  it  was  ever  loaded." 

"Where  did  he  keep  it?" 

"I  haven't  the  least  idea.  It's  months  since  I 
saw  it." 

"Where  did  you  see  it  last?" 

The  questions  were  pelted  pitilessly  at  him,  and 
he  was  visibly  writhing  about  under  them.  At  the 
last  one,  he  blurted  out  desperately: 

"In  the — the  den." 


40  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"Will  you  go,  please,  and  bring  it  here?" 

"I  don't  know  where  it  is,  I  tell  you!"  he  almost 
shouted,  the  perspiration  standing  out  in  great 
beads  on  his  forehead. 

"Will  you  go  to  the  den,  and  look  for  it?**  Then, 
as  the  young  man  seemed  to  hesitate,  he  added: 
"Mr.  Appleton's  body  has  been  removed." 

With  a  sudden  movement,  Yates  Appleton  turned 
and  bolted  from  the  room,  and  those  within  it  sat 
in  a  tense  silence,  waiting. 

Finally,  there  was  an  exclamation,  almost  a  shout, 
from  down  the  hall,  and  the  young  man  rushed  in. 

"It's  gone!"  he  cried.  "Someone's  taken  it! 
It's  gone  from  the  drawer,  where  he  always  kept 
it!" 

Damon  Gaunt  reached  in  his  hip-pocket,  and 
drew  forth  something,  which  he  held  out. 

"Is  this  it?"  he  asked,  quietly. 

Yates  Appleton  snatched  it  from  his  hands. 

"Let  me  see!"  he  bent,  trembling,  over  it.  Then, 
he  turned  roughly  upon  the  detective.  "Yes,  by 
gad,  it  is!  And  you're  a  fool  if  you  think  it  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  murder!  It's  fully  loaded! 
Here!  You  can  see  for  yourself!"  He  thrust  it 
into  the  Coroner's  hands. 

"Yes,  it's  fully  loaded,"  Grant  conceded,  steadily. 
"But  it  has  been  lately  fired,  and  reloaded — 
within  a  few  hours,  perhaps.  An  attempt  has 
been  made  to  clean  it,  but  not  thoroughly.  It 
still  reeks  of  powder.** 


THE  INSTRUMENT  OF  DEATH  41 

''Where  did  you  get  it?"  Yates  Appleton  de- 
manded, furiously. 

"In  the  drawer  in  the  library  table,  where  you 
say  your  brother  always  kept  it;  in  the  drawer 
where  it  was  placed  in  the  early  hours  of  this  morn- 
ing, by  the  hand  which  reloaded  and  cleaned  it — 
the  same  hand  which  pried  open  the  catch  of  the 
window  from  the  inside,  and  smeared  the  curtains 
with  the  blood  of  a  man  long  dead.  The  weapon 
which  was  the  instrument  of  death  was  Garret 
Appleton's  own  revolver!" 


CHAPTER  III 

LIES 

THERE  was  a  moment  of  electrified  silence, 
and  then  Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton  arose  majes- 
tically to  her  feet. 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  do  you  mean  to  imply  that  my  son 
committed  suicide,  and  that  someone  else,  coming 
upon  his  body  hours  afterward,  attempted  to  con- 
ceal the  evidence  of  his  act,  and  to  create  a  false 
impression  of  theft  and  murder?  You  go  too  far, 
sir!  Such  a  deduction  is  that  of  a  mind,  to  say  the 
least,  gone  astray!" 

"I  imply  nothing  of  the  sort,  Mrs.  Appleton.  I 
assert  that  your  son  was  killed  by  some  person, 
at  present  unknown,  who  did  not  enter  by  way  of 
the  window;  and  that  the  murderer,  or  someone 
else,  coming  by  chance  upon  the  body,  sought  to 
convey  a  false  impression  of  the  manner  of  your 
son's  death.  That  is  the  case  as  it  stands 
now." 

**I  cannot  believe  it!  It  is  preposterous — un- 
thinkable! Why  should  anyone  do  such  a  thing? 
What  motive  could  there  be?  No  one  in  my  house- 
hold could  be  capable  of  it!  I  trust  my  servants 
implicitly!"    The  dominant  woman  had  forgotten 

42 


LIES  43 

for  the  moment  that  it  was  of  her  daughter-in- 
law's  house  she  spoke,  her  daughter-in-law's  ser- 
vants. 

"Good  God!"  Yates  Appleton  ejaculated  in  a 
low  tone.  He  was  wiping  his  forehead,  and  star- 
ing at  the  detective  with  something  akin  to  horror 
in  his  eyes. 

"Mr.  Appleton,"  Gaunt  turned  to  him,  "your 
mother  tells  me  that  you  and  she  are  planning  to 
leave  this  house  today;  I  should  like  a  word  in 
private  with  you  before  you  go." 

"Y-yes,  Mr.  Gaunt.  Perhaps  you'll  come  to 
my  room?  My  man  is  packing  there  now;  but 
I'll  dismiss  him — " 

"I'll  come  presently,  when  I've  had  a  word  with 
the  Coroner." 

The  Judge  had  turned  to  Mrs.  Appleton,  and 
was  saying  softly: 

"You  are  leaving  this  house — leaving  Natalie 
in  her  grief?" 

"Her  grief  is  not  overwhelming,  my  dear  friend. 
There  is  no  need  of  pretense  to  you.  She's  merely 
hysterical  now,  and  Barbara  is  taking  care  of  her." 

"But,  Catherine,  is  it  wise?     Is  it — politic?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  know  the  house  is  horrible  to 
me;   that  I  could  not  spend  another  night  in  it!" 

The  Judge  sighed. 

"Could  I  speak  to  Natalie  for  a  moment,  do  you 
think?" 

"I'll  see."     Mrs.  Appleton  swept  from  the  room 


U  AT  ONE-THIETY 

as  if  glad  to  escape  even  momentarily  from  Gaunt*s 
presence,  and  the  Judge  turned  to  where  his 
daughter,  with  white,  set  face  and  staring  eyes, 
crouched  in  the  window-seat. 

Meanwhile,  the  Coroner  said  in  a  low,  excited 
tone: 

"You're  sure  of  what  you  said,  Mr.  Gaunt? 
That  was  a  pretty  strong  statement  you  made. 
After  all,  you  know,  you've  the  merest  circumstan- 
tial evidence  to  go  on." 

"Good  heavens,  man!  Don't  the  facts  bear  me 
out  so  far?  And  I  made  that  statement  as  openly 
as  I  did,  for  a  good  and  sufficient  reason.  Be  sure 
you  keep  that  revolver  from  being  handled  too  much. 
You'll  need  the  powder-traces  on  it  as  evidence, 
later." 

"Judge  Carhart,  if  you  will  come  with  me — " 
Mrs.  Appleton's  voice  came  from  just  behind  them, 
"  Natalie  would  like  to  see  you  for  a  moment." 

When  the  Judge  had  left  the  room,  the  Coroner, 
too,  departed,  and  Gaunt  crossed  to  where  the 
slim,  still  figure  was  seated  among  the  cushions. 

"You — you're   blind  aren't  you,   Mr.    Gaunt?" 
the  girl  asked  curiously,  but  not  unkindly.     "  How  [ 
did  you  know  where  I  was  sitting?  " 

"By  your  perfume,  Miss  Carhart,"  he  replied,  ' 
with  a  smile.     "  You  know,  we  who  are  bereft  of 
one  sense  must  train  the  others  to  act  for  us  in 
place  of  the  one  we  have  lost.     That  perfume  is 
very  strange,  unusual." 


LIES  45 

"Yes.  My  father  has  It  sent  from  India.  He 
used  to  get  it  for  my  mother.  It  has  an  unpro- 
nounceable name,  meaning  'The  Rose  in  Death.' 
She  shivered  a  Httle  at  the  last  word,  then  went 
on  hurriedly:  "It  is  supposed  to  be  very,  very 
old.  I  believe  it  was  first  distilled  for  the  queen 
in  whose  memory  the  Taj-Mahal  was  built.  .  .  . 
But  tell  me,  Mr.  Gaunt,  is  it  really  true  that  Garret — 
that  Mr.  Appleton  was — murdered?  Even  after 
hearing  what  you  have  all  just  said,  I  cannot  be- 
lieve it." 

"  He  is  dead,"  Gaunt  answered,  gently.  "By 
whose  hand  we  have  yet  to  learn.  Try  to  recall 
everything  that  happened  last  evening,  every  little, 
trivial  incident,  which  may  have  slipped  your 
memory.  There  was  nothing — not  a  word  or  a 
look  from  anyone  out  of  the  ordinary  .f*" 

"I  can't  think — ^you  frighten  me  so,  Mr.  Gaunt! 
You  make  me  feel  as  If  you  suspected  every  one  of 
us!  Surely,  It  was  a  burglar,  was  it  not?  Mr. 
Appleton's  money  and  jewelry  are  also  gone,  they 
say.  Oh,  what  does  it  all  mean?  Who  can  have 
done  it?" 

"Try  to  calm  yourself.  Miss  Carhart,  and  collect 
your  thoughts,  and  tell  me  exactly  what  happened 
last  evening — everything  which  you  can  remember." 

"Why,  we  dined — ^just  a  simple  family  dinner — 
you  know,  we're  all  awfully  old  friends — Mrs. 
Appleton,  and  my  father,  and  Garret  and  his 
wife,  and  Miss  Ellerslie,  and  Yates,  and  I.     And 


46  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

then,  afterward — let  me  see.  Oh,  yes.  Miss  Ellers- 
lie  went  to  a  wedding  with  a  party  of  friends,  who 
called  for  her — " 

"A  wedding?'* 

"Yes.  An  old  friend  from  the  South,  I  believe. 
And  Yates  went  out,  too.  Mrs.  Appleton  and 
father  played  double-dummy  bridge,  and  Garret 
and  his  wife  and  I  chatted  for  awhile.  Then 
Garret's  wife  said  she  wasn't  feeling  very  well, 
and  excused  herself  and  went  up-stairs,  and  Garret 
and  I  sat  and  talked  until  father  and  Mrs  Apple- 
ton  finished  their  game,  and  we  went  home.  That 
is  all." 

"What  time  did  you  leave .f*" 

"Oh,  early — between  eleven  and  half-past,  I 
think." 

"And  on  your  arrival  home?'* 

"Father  went  to  his  study  for  a  last  cigar,  and 
I  went  right  up  to  bed,  and  read  for  an  hour  or 
two  before  I  fell  asleep.  We  weren't  going  on 
anywhere  else.  It's  too  early  in  the  season  for 
dances  and  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know." 

"I  understand.  Miss  Carhart,"  he  bent  for- 
ward suddenly,  as  if  to  look  into  her  face  through 
his  sightless  eyes,  and  shot  the  question  at  her, 
"at  what  hour  during  the  evening,  and  with  whom, 
were  you  in  the  den?" 

She  shrank  from  him,  her  breath  coming  in 
great  gasps. 

"The — den?"  she  faltered,  through]^dry  lips. 


LIES  47 

"The  room  In  which  Garret  Appleton  was  after- 
ward murdered,"  he  persisted,  Inexorably. 

"The — den!'*  she  repeated,  "Why,  never — not 
once — not  for  an  Instant!     I  swear  It!" 

The  detective  drew  back. 

"Oh!"  he  muttered.  "You  said  that  you  and 
young  Mrs.  Appleton  and  her  husband  sat  chatting, 
while  your  father  and  the  elder  Mrs.  Appleton 
played  bridge.  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  In  the 
den." 

Miss  Carhart  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  said,  hastily.  "We  were  In  the 
library." 

He  could  feel  her  eyes  upon  him,  deep  and 
bright  with  suspicion. 

"You  say  that  young  Mrs.  Appleton  was  not 
well.     Did  she  seem  depressed,  or  unhappy?" 

The  sudden  change  of  topic  had  the  desired  effect. 

"How  should  I  know?"  the  girl  drew  herself  up 
coldly.  "I  did  not  notice  her  particularly.  She 
seemed  quite  as  usual." 

*'I  thought  perhaps  you  would  have  noticed.  I 
understood  you  were  great  friends." 

"I  meant  that  my  father  and  I  were  great  friends 
of  the  Appleton  family.  I  only  know  Garret's  wife 
and  her  sister  casually,  not  Intimately." 

"Well,  Miss  Carhart,  I  must  leave  you.  No 
doubt  Mrs.  Appleton  will  return  almost  Immediately 
with  your  father,  and  I  must  interview  the  ser- 
vants.    Thank  you  for  replying  to  my  questions." 


48  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

He  turned  gropingly,  with  outstretched  hands, 
as  if  feeling  for  the  door  from  which  he  had  come 
to  her  with  such  unerring  precision,  and  his  hand 
came  in  contact  with  her  head  just  where  her  hair 
billowed  out  from  under  her  hat.  He  withdrew 
it  at  once,  with  a  deprecatingly  murmured  apology, 
and,  with  an  odd  lack  of  his  usual  accuracy,  fumbled 
for  the  door.  On  the  sill,  he  paused,  stopped, 
and  picked  up  a  filmy  square  of  lace,  so  tiny  that 
it  had  lain  unnoticed  in  the  general  excitement 
by  those  who  had  passed  over  it.  He  turned,  and 
walked  straight  back  to  where  the  girl  sat  watching 
him,  with  curious,  fascinated  eyes. 

"Your  handkerchief,  I  beheve?"  he  asked,  smil- 
ingly presenting  it.  "You  must  have  dropped  it 
when  you  entered." 

Miss  Carhart  took  it  from  his  hand,  glanced  at 
it,  and  then  swiftly  back  to  his  face,  and  her  eyes 
were  dark  with  apprehension. 

"Thank  you,  it  is  mine,"  she  said  quietly.  "But 
— how  did  you  know?" 

"The  perfume,"  he  explained,  with  courteous, 
but  wearied,  patience.  "Wherever  you  are,  where- 
':  ever  any  personal  article  of  yours  lies,  that  individual, 
penetrating  scent  of  yours  would  lead  unmistakably 
to  you.  And  then,  too,  if  1  am  not  mistaken,  I 
felt  the  monogram  D.  C.  in  a  corner  of  the  hand- 
kerchief. Mrs.  Appleton  called  you  'Doris.'  It  is 
quite  simple,  you  see.  Good-morning,  Miss  Carhart/* 
As  he  made  his  way  slowly  along  the  unfamiliar 


UBS  40 

hali,  he  pondered.  She  had  been  in  the  den  some- 
time the  previous  evening.  The  Hngering,  cloying 
perfume  was  unmistakable.  Why  had  she  denied 
it? 

A  man-servant  passed  through  the  hall,  and, 
seeing  him,  approached  deferentially. 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  sir?  Were  you  going  to  Mr.  Ap- 
pleton's  room?  He  expects  you.  I'm  his  man, 
sir.     Shall  I  show  you  the  way?" 

**If  you  will,  please.  But  where  were  you  going 
just  now?" 

"To  the  kitchen,  sir,  with  this  tray." 

"Tray?" 

"Yes,  sir.     Mr.  Yates  Appleton's  breakfast-tray." 

The  man's  perceptible  pause  before  the  word 
**  breakfast "  was  illuminating,  but  unnecessarily  so 
to  Gaunt. 

"That  is  not  a  breakfast-tray,  my  man,  unless 
your  master  partook  of  a  most  injudicious  meal. 
He'd  better  not  have  anything  more  to  drink 
today,  if  you  can  keep  it  away  from  him." 

"Drink,  sir?  How — how  did  you  know?"  the 
valet  stammered,  the  shaking  tray  almost  slipping 
from  his  hands. 

"From  the  tinkle  of  ice  in  the  glass,  and  that 
purring  sound  of  gas  in  the  siphon.  If  that  tray 
had  been  more  heavily  laden — with  dishes,  for 
instance — I  should  have  heard  them  clink  together, 
also,  as  you  came  toward  me  down  the  hall.  What 
is  your  name?" 


50  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

James,  sir. 

"Well,  James,  at  what  hour  did  your  master 
return  home  last  night,  or,  rather,  this  morning?" 

**At  about  three  o'clock,  sir." 

**How  do  you  know?  Did  you  wait  up  for 
him?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  mostly  do,  sir.  It — it  isn't  often 
that  he  can  get  to  bed  by  himself,  sir."  The  man 
spoke  apologetically,  but  with  eager  frankness. 
Evidently,  he  stood  much  in  awe  of  his  inquisitor. 

"I  understand.  And  in  what  condition  was  your 
master  when  he  returned  this  morning?" 

"About  as  usual.  Quite — quite  under  the  weather, 
to  to  speak,  but  not  what  you  might  call  bad, 
sir.  .  .  .  This  is  his  door." 

James  coughed  discreetly,  and  knocked,  and  an 
Irritable,  highly  strung  voice  bade  him  enter. 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  sir,"  announced  James,  and  departed 
swiftly  and  noiselessly. 

"Oh!"  said  Yates  Appleton,  with  a  noticeable 
change  of  'tone.  "Come  in,  Mr.  Gaunt.  What 
is  it  you  want  to  ask  me?  I'm  afraid  I've  told 
you  everything  I  know." 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  jewelry  was  taken  from 
your  brother's  body,"  was  the  opening  remark, 
which  evidently  surprised  the  younger  man  by  its 
tenor. 

"Oh,  I've  already  given  a  list  to  Inspector  Han- 
rahan,  as  nearly  as  I  can  remember,  and  Garret's 
man  can  tell  me." 


LIES  51 

"Still,  I  should  like  to  have  you  repeat  it  to  me," 
the  detective  reiterated,  patiently. 

"Pearl  studs,  pearl  and  mother-of-pearl  vest- 
buttons  and  cufF-buttons,  a  small  gold  watch, 
thin  gold  cigarette-case,  and  a  small  seal  purse. 
That's  all,  I  think." 

"All?  No  small  jeweled  pin,  or  insignia  of 
some  sort?" 

Yates  Appleton's  knuckles  cracked  suddenly, 
as  he  gripped  the  back  of  a  high  carved  chair  upon 
which  he  was  leaning. 

"Pin?  I  never  thought  of  that!  He  did  have 
some  such  thing,  I  believe.  Frat*  pin,  from  his 
university  days,  I  imagine,  although  I  never 
inquired.  He  was  superstitious  about  it,  and 
wouldn't  go  without  it;  but  in  dinner-clothes — " 

"He  wore  it  pinned  inside  his  vest-pocket,  in 
evening-clothes,  didn't  he?" 

"Yes,"  Yates  Appleton  gasped,  and  looked  his 
perturbed  astonishment.  "By  Jove!  I  remember 
now,  I've  seen  him  pin  it  there  once  or  twice,  or 
under  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  Silly  of  him;  but, 
as  I  say,  he  was  superstitious  about  it.  I'd  like 
to  know  how  you  found  it  out,  Mr.  Gaunt.  Hardly 
anybody  knew  about  it." 

"The  thief  did,"  Gaunt  observed,  quietly. 
"Rather  unusual,  wasn't  it?  The  man  who  robbed 
and  murdered  him  evidently  was  someone  who 
knew  him  and  his  habits  thoroughly — or  else  had 
nerve   enough,   after   firing   a   shot,   which,   had   it 


52  AT  ONE-THIETY 

been  heard,  would  have  brought  the  whole  house 
about  his  ears,  to  search  his  victim's  clothes  with 
the  most  minute  detail." 

"Hum-m!  I  never  thought  of  that,"  the  young 
man  answered,  thoughtfully. 

"What  did  you  do  last  evening,  Mr.  Appleton? 
You  went  out  immediately  after  dinner,  did  you 
not?" 

"Almost  immediately.  Family  parties  always 
bore  me." 

"Where  did  you  go?" 

"To  the  club  first — the  Patriarch *s,  for  awhile. 
Met  some  chaps  I  knew,  and  played  cards,  and 
had  a  few  drinks.  Then,  I  drove  around  in  the 
car  for  awhile,  and — and — " 

"And  then?" 

"Then,  I  went  to  the  rooms  of  a  fellow  I  know, 
and  he  came  out  with  me." 

"Where?" 

"Oh,  we  rode  around  some  more  in  the  car, 
and  stopped  at  various  places  for  drinks.  Then, 
I  left  him  at  his  rooms,  and  came  home  to  bed 
myself." 

"At  what  time  did  you  leave  the  club?" 

"The  club?  Oh,  I  don't  know — at  about  half- 
past  twelve." 

"And  when  did  you  reach  your  friend's  rooms?" 

"About  one." 

"Your  friend  can  verify  that?" 

"Yes,  and  the  door-man  at  the  club  can  verify 


LIES  53 

the  time  I  left  there,  if  necessary,  as  you  very  well 
know.  Good  heavens,  man!  you  don't  suspect  me 
of  murdering  my  own  brother,  do  you?"  He 
spoke  with  the  irritability  of  nerves  worn  to  the 
breaking  point. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Appleton,  this  is  merely  a  matter 
of  form,  you  know.  No  one  suspects  you,  of  course; 
but  the  police  will  go  into  this  much  more  rigor- 
ously, if  I  don't.  They  must  know  where  every 
member  of  this  household  was  at  every  moment 
last  night.  .  .  .  Are  your  friend's  rooms  near  the 
club?" 

"Within  five  minutes,  in  the  motor  car."  The 
young  man  spoke  sullenly,  but  more  quietly. 

"So  that,  after  leaving  the  club,  you  only  drove 
around  by  yourself  for  about  twenty  minutes?" 

"Yes.  I  was  coming  home,  and  then  I — changed 
my  mind." 

"At  what  time  did  you  finally  reach  home?" 

"I  don't  know — about  three,  I  suppose." 

"And  you  heard  or  saw  nothing  unusual?" 

"No.  James  was  waiting  up  for  me,  in  my  dress- 
ing-room, and  I  went  straight  to  bed.  I  was  feeling 
a — a  little  tight." 

"I  understand.  Now,  Mr.  Appleton,  will  you 
give  me  your  friend's  name  and  address,  please?'* 

"Maurice  Livingston,  Bryant  Chambers,"  the 
young  man  returned,  sullenly. 

"Mr.  Appleton,  what  is  that  strong  odor  of 
witch-hazel  I  smell?" 


54  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"My  hand — I  hurt  It.  My  man's  been  dressing 
it  for  me." 

"How  did  you  hurt  it?" 

"Bruised  it — got  caught  in  the  door  of  the  car 
last  night." 

"When?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  was  tight,  I  tell  you — intoxi- 
cated, if  you  like  that  better!  I  only  noticed  it 
this  morning." 

"Well,  Mr.  Appleton,  I  won't  keep  you  much 
longer.  I  wonder  if  you  know  of  any  enemies 
your  brother  may  have  made — if  he  feared  anyone, 
feared  an  attack  of  some  sort?" 

"Lord,  no!  He  wasn't  man  enough  to  make 
enemies,"  the  affectionate  brother  returned,  "not 
bad  enough  enemies  to  want  to  take  his  life;  although 
there  were  lots  who  hated  him,  and  a  few  who 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  him  out  of  the  way." 

"Out  of  the  way?  Whom  do  you  mean  by  that, 
Mr.  Appleton?"  the  detective  spoke  peremptor- 
ily, and  the  other  man  squirmed  uneasily. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!"  he  blundered.  "There's 
a  chap  whose  rather  gone  on  Natalie.  Not  that 
she's  ever  given  him  any  encouragement,  that 
I've  noticed;  but  you  never  can  tell  about  these 
sl}'^  ones.  She  was  jealous,  and  always  rowing 
Garret,  you  know,  and  playing  the  ill-used  wife, 
and  bleating  to  Barbara  about  it,  and  maybe  she 
worked  on  this  fellow's  sympathies.  He's  one  of 
the  intense,  quiet  kind.     Perhaps  he'll  think  there's 


LIES  55 

a  chance  for  him,  now.     I  fancy  he  won't  be  sorry, 
for  one,  that  Garret's  gone." 

"What  is  the  man's  name?" 

"Harmon  Witherspoon.  He  lives  down  in  the 
old  Witherspoon  Mansion,  on  Washington  Square." 

"Well,  Mr.  Appleton,  I  won't  detain  you  any 
longer."  Gaunt  rose.  "If  I  need  you  again,  I 
shall  find  you  at  your  rooms — the  Calthorp,  isn't  it  ? " 

"Yes.  I  am  going  straight  there.  This  house 
is  getting  on  my  nerves." 

"Will  you  please  ring  for  a  servant,  and  have 
me  conducted  to  the  drawing-room  or  library?  I 
want  to  interview  Miss  Ellerlsie." 

"I'll  take  you  myself.  The  Hbrary'd  be  best." 
Yates  Appleton  pressed  the  button  in  the  wall  with 
alacrity,  as  if  glad  the  searching  interview  was 
over.  "James,"  he  added,  when  the  man  appeared, 
"send  someone  to  tell  Miss  Ellerslie  that  Mr.  Gaunt 
would  like  to  speak  to  her  in  the  library." 

In  the  great  entrance-hall,  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  however,  they  were  halted  by  the  Inspector.  ; 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  I'd  Hke  to  speak  to  you  for  a  minute 
please.     Were  you  going  anywhere,  special?" 

"To  the  library,  to  interview  Miss  Ellerslie," 
the  detective  replied. 

"Then,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  show  you  the  way 
myself,  after  I've  had  a  word  with  you." 

Inspector  Hanrahan  waited  until  Mr.  Yates 
Appleton  was  up  the  stairs  and  well  out  of  ear- 
shot, before  he  spoke  again. 


56  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"It's  about  the  autopsy,  Mr.  Gaunt.  They 
found  the  bullet,  as  you  know;  but  they  found 
something  else,  too.  It  is  a  bruise  on  the  left 
shoulder,  high  up  near  the  neck,  as  if  it  was  a 
blow  aimed  at  the  heart,  and  wide  of  the  mark. 
As  sure  as  you're  alive,  Mr.  Gaunt,  someone  hit 
him  a  blow!  That  looks  like  a  struggle,  don't  it? 
That  looks  as  if  he'd  tried  to  defend  himself,  and 
been  worsted.  Sort  of  knocks  your  theory  that 
he  just  sat  still  and  let  himself  be  done  to  death, 
don't  it?" 

"It  looks  like  it.  Inspector,"  Gaunt  answered 
with  a  slight  smile,  which  gave  no  hint  of  the  tumult 
of  his  thoughts.     "Any  other  marks  on  the  body?"] 

"None  but  the  bullet-wound,"  the  Inspector  re- 
turned, briefly.  "But  this  is  the  darndest  case  I 
ever  struck  in  my  life,  Mr.  Gaunt.  Who  killed  him, 
and  why  did  they  come  back  hours  later  and  fix 
up  that  window  stunt?" 

"That's  what  we're  here  to  find  out.  Been  after 
any  more  of  the  servants?" 

"Yes;  but  it's  no  good.  Katie,  the  housemaid 
that  was  stuck  on  Louis,  Mr.  Appleton's  man, 
won't  admit  a  thing,  and  Maggie,  the  blatherskite 
of  a  cook,  won't  do  anything  but  weep,  and  wail, 
and  bemoan  the  day  she  left  Ireland.  I'm  going 
to  get  after  Dakers,  the  butler,  again.  He's  smooth 
and  polite,  and  slick  as  they  come;  but  I  have  an  idea 
that  fellow's  got  something  up  his  sleeve." 

"All  right.  Inspector.     By  the  way,  would  you 


LIES  57 

mind  telling  me  what  color  hair  this  is?  It's  golden, 
isn't  it?"  He  pulled  the  strand  of  hair  from  his 
vest-pocket  as  he  spoke. 

"Sure,  it's  golden,  right  enough."  The  Inspec- 
tor's tone  was  full  of  honest  wonder.  "How'd  you 
know?" 

"By  the  texture.  I  can  tell  the  color  of  most 
hair  by  the  feel  of  it  between  my  fingers — not  the 
difference  between  the  finer  shadings,  perhaps,  but 
the  general  tone." 

"It  beats  me  how  you  do  it!  But  where  did 
you  get  it?" 

"Never  mind  that  now.  I'll  tell  you  if  it  turns 
out  to  be  important.  Here  comes  Miss  EUerslie. 
Let  me  know  later  if  you  learn  anything." 

"Miss  EUershe?  She  ain't  coming  yet,  Mr. 
Gaunt.     There  ain't  a  soul  in  sight." 

"I  hear  her  footstep  in  the  hall  above.  There! 
She's  just  at  the  head  of  the  stairs." 

The  Inspector  glanced  up  involuntarily,  and  saw 
a  slight,  gray-clad  figure. 

"Holy  Virgin!"  he  muttered  to  himself,  stepping 
back,  with  round  eyes  full  of  wonder  on  the  man 
before  him.  "This  is  the  library,  here  on  your 
right,"  he  added  hurriedly,  and  departed,  all  but 
crossing  himself  as  he  went. 

"You  wished  to  see  me,  Mr.  Gaunt?"  the  low, 
sweet,  pulsing  voice  sounded  upon  his  ears,  and 
Barbara  EUerslie  led  the  way  into  the  library.  "I 
shall  be  glad  to  tell  you  anything  I  can." 


58  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"Your  sister,  Mrs.  Appleton — how  is  she?** 
Gaunt  asked,  for  once  at  a  loss  how  to  lead  up  to 
the  subject  he  must  inquire  into.  The  nearness  of 
this  strange,  magnetic  woman,  the  poignancy  of 
her,  was  as  oddly  disturbing  as  the  vibrations  of 
the  violin-like  tones.  She  seemed  to  radiate  a 
suggestion  of  limitless  power  in  her  perfect  self- 
containment,  of  glowing  health,  of  body  and  mind, 
and  soul,  in  her  easy  poise  and  control. 

"She  is  better.  The  first  reaction  from  the  shock 
has  gone,  and  she  is  quieter.  She  will  be  able 
to  see  you  later,  for  d  few  moments,  if  you  wish. 
But,  please,  be  very  gentle  with  her,  Mr.  Gaunt." 
The  low  voice  sank  even  lower,  as  he  was  later  to 
know  was  its  wont,  when  anything  that  touched 
her  very  deeply  was  uttered.  "She  is  not  well, 
not  over-strong  at  best,  and  now  she  is  in  a  delicate 
condition.  She  has  had  much  to  endure,  and  it 
culminated  in  the  shock  of  this  morning's  tragedy. 
Please,  be  very — kind  to  her." 

"I  will,"  the  detective  found  himself  promising, 
almost  vehemently.  "I  shall  not  annoy  her  any 
more  than  I  can  possibly  help,  and  I  shall  try  to 
say  nothing  to  grieve  or  excite  her."  ^ 

"Thank  you."  The  voice  was  a  mere  tremulous 
breath;  but  she  must  have  leaned  toward  him,  in- 
voluntarily, for  the  clean,  pure  fragrance  of  her 
hair  and  body,  free  from  the  taint  of  cloying  scents 
and  acrid  perfumes,  stole  over  his  senses,  and 
seemed  to  numb  them.     With  an  effort  of  his  will, 


LIES  59 

he  pulled  himself  together,  and  spoke  in  a  tone  more 
stern  than  he  had  meant,  to  cover  his  own  con- 
fusion and  bewilderment  at  himself. 

"But  in  order  to  spare  your  sister,  Miss  Ellers- 
lie,  I  must  ask  you  to  answer  my  questions  without 
reservation.  You  went  out  immediately  after 
dinner,  last  evening?" 

"Yes,  to  a  wedding — a  very  quiet  one,  that  of 
an  old  schoolmate.  I  went  with  friends,  and 
returned  quite  late." 

"At  what  time?" 

"About  one  o'clock." 

"Did  you  retire  at  once?" 

"No.  My  sister's  maid  and  mine — an  old  mam- 
my, whom  we  brought  with  us  from  our  home — 
was  waiting  up  for  me,  and  she  said  that  Natalie 
was  awake,  and  very  nervous.  Without  waiting 
to  disrobe,  I  went  in  and  talked  with  her  for  some 
time,  until  she  quieted  down,  and  almost  slept. 
Then,  I  returned  to  my  room." 

"You  retired  immediately?" 

"Yes." 

"You  were,  therefore,  not  in  or  near  the  den  from 
the  time  dinner  was  over,  either  before  you  went 
out,  or  after  your  return,  until  this  morning,  when 
the  discovery  of  Mr.  Appleton's  body  aroused 
the  house?" 

"No,  Mr.  Gaunt." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    SISTERS 

YOU  are  sure?"  the  detective  asked,  slowly. 
The  girl  turned,  and  regarded  him  de- 
liberately,   as    if   she    could    read    in    his 
sightless    eyes    the    thoughts    that    were    passing 
through  his  mind. 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  that  so  persistently,  Mr. 
Gaunt?  I  was  not  in  or  near  the  den  yesterday, 
or  last  night.  Had  I  been,  I  should  have  no  reason 
for  concealing  the  fact  from  you." 

"I  thought  that  perhaps  you  might  have  for- 
gotten," he  replied,  with  unusual  hesitancy.  "It 
is  important  that  I  should  know  who  of  this  house- 
hold visited  that  room,  on  no  matter  how  innocent 
an  errand,  during  the  hours  preceding  Garret 
Appleton's  death.  You  heard  nothing  unusual  on 
your  return,  nor  at  any  time  during  the  night?" 

"No,  Mr.  Gaunt;  and  I  am  a  very  light  sleeper, 
as  is  my  sister.  I  cannot  understand  why  the — 
sound  of  that  revolver-shot  did  not  arouse  some- 
one, at  least,  in  all  this  house." 

"That  is  not  unusual.  The  police  records  are 
full  of  murder  and  suicide  cases  in  crowded  apart- 
ment houses  and  tenements,  where  no  one  happens 
to  hear  the  shot  fired,  or,  if  they  are  awakened 

60 


THE  SISTEES  61 

suddenly  by  something,  do  not  take  the  trouble  to 
investigate,  since  all  seems  then  to  be  quiet  around 
them.  But  tell  me,  please:  The  first  idea  you 
had  of  the  murder  was  when  you  were  awakened 
by  the  screams  of  the  maid  who  discovered  the 
body?  " 

"Yes.  At  first,  when  the  terrible,  piercing  shrieks 
awakened  me,  I  thought  the  house  was  on  fire.  I 
thrust  my  feet  into  slippers,  flung  a  heavy  robe 
about  my  shoulders,  and  rushed  for  my  sister's 
room.  In  the  hall,  however,  it  was  borne  in  upon 
my  consciousness  that  the  voice  was  crying  *  Mur- 
der!' not  'Fire!'  and,  not  knowing  what  it  was, 
but  remembering  my  sister's  delicate  condition, 
I  felt  that  I  must  stop  those  awful  screams  before 
she  was  disturbed,  if  possible,  and  frightened 
half  out  of  her  senses.  I  turned  and  ran  down- 
stairs, following  the  direction  of  the  cries,  until 
I  came  to  the  den.  You  know  what  I  found 
there."  » 

"Who  else  of  the  household  was  there  before 
you: 

"The  housemaid,  Katie,  of  course.  She  it  was 
who  had  discovered  the  body.  Maggie,  the  cook; 
Dakers,  the  butler;  James,  Mr.  Yates  Appleton's 
man;  and  Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton's  maid,  Marie.'*    ; 

"What  was  their  condition?" 

"I  don't  remember,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  didn't  notice 
very  much.  I  was  appalled,  stunned,  by  the  sight 
of  my  brother-in-law's  body.     The  maids  were  in 


62  AT  ONE-THIETY 

hysterics,  of  course,  and  the  butler  in  a  state  of 
collapse.  I  remember  seeing  him  crouched  against 
the  wall,  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  and 
James  standing  over  him,  shaking  his  shoulder, 
and  I  think  he  kept  repeating:  *You  fool!  You 
fool!'  but  I  cannot  be  sure.  It  is  all  Hke  a  horrible 
dream.     Then — then  the  rest  came — the  family." 

"Which  of  them  appeared  first?'* 

"I  don't  know.  I  only  remember  my  little  sister 
sobbing  and  shuddering  in  my  arms,  and  Mrs. 
Finlay  Appleton  standing  there  with  her  gray  hair 
all  disheveled  and  her  face  as  rigid  as  a  death- 
mask,  staring  down  at  the  body  of  her  son.  I 
only  know  that  Yates  appeared  last,  hanging  to 
the  door-casing,  as  if  he  was  afraid  to  enter  the  room, 
and  staring — staring  horribly.  Then — "  the  low 
voice  sank  to  a  throbbing  whisper,  and  ceased. 
;  "Then — ^what?"  Gaunt  urged,  gently. 
"^  "Then — Mrs.  Appleton  seemed  to  realize  his 
presence,  and  she  turned  and  spoke  to  him,  and, 
at  her  voice,  he  broke  down  and  wept.  After- 
ward, when  he  was  calmer,  she  sent  him  to  dress 
and  go  for  you.  Meantime,  the  butler  had  been 
ordered  to  notify  the  police,  and  the  officer  and 
Inspector  came,  and  afterward  the  Coroner.  The 
rest  you  know." 

"Miss  Ellerslie, "  the  detective's  voice  was  very 
gentle,  "you  have  lived  North  with  your  sister 
since  her  marriage?" 

"No;    only   for   the   last  year.     I   would    hare 


1  only  remember  my  little  sister  sobbing  and  shuddering 
in  my  arms." 


THE  SISTMtS  63 

preferred  living  in  my  home  in  the  South,  but  my 
sister  wanted  me — needed  me." 

"I  understand,"  Gaunt  returned.  "I  have  had 
an  interview  with  Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton." 

The  low  voice  took  on  a  saddened,  weary  tone, 
inexpressibly  pathetic. 

"Ah!  Then  you  know  all,  and  more,  than  I 
can  tell  you.  Mrs.  Appleton  considers  us  inter- 
lopers, almost  adventuresses.  Her  dearest  matri- 
monial plans  and  ambitions  for  her  eldest  son  were 
shattered  when  he  met  my  sister,  and  she  has  never 
forgiven  it,  and  never  will.  He — Garret — came 
down  to  the  Horse  Show  at  Louisville  with  Brooks 
Guernsey,  in  his  private  car.  We — my  sister  and 
I — were  orphans.  Our  three  brothers  were  dead, 
too,  and  we  were  living  with  our  uncle,  a  veteran 
horseman,  near  Louisville.  Garret  fell  in  love  with 
my  sister,  and  she  was  fascinated  by  him.  He  was 
better-looking  then,  dissipation  hadn't  left  any  ap- 
preciable traces  upon  his  face,  and  I  think  she  w^as 
da2Kled  by  his  wealth  and  social  position.  He  was 
a  sort  of  fairy-prince  to  her,  poor  child!  She  was 
only  eighteen.  I  am  four  years  older.  .  .  .  But 
all  this  is  irrelevant,  isn't  it?" 

"No;  go  on,  please.     I  want  to  hear  everything." 

"She  married  him,  then,  and  came  North,  and 
at  first  her  letters  were  glowing.  Later,  she  couldn't 
keep  her  increasing  unhappiness  from  straying  into 
them,  and  at  last  she  begged  mt:  to  come  to  her. 
I  came,  and  saw  the  situation,  and — I  stayed.     I 


64  AT  ONE-THIETT 

knew  I  was  unwelcome,  detested — oh,  you  can 
imagine  my  almost  unbearable  position!  But  I 
would  not  leave  her,  I  would  not  be  driven  away, 
because  she  clung  to  me,  and  we  two  were  alone 
in  the  world.  My  uncle,  our  last  living  relative, 
died  just  after  I  came  to  New  York. 

"Garret's  people,  and  Garret  himself,  hated  me, 
because  I  stood  between  her  and  what  persecution 
I  was  able  to.  We  hoped — she  and  I — that,  when 
they  knew  she  was  going  to  have  a  child,  they 
would  be  more  kind.  Garret  was  utterly  indif- 
ferent; he  was  quite  tired  of  her,  longing  to  turn 
back  to  a  woman — but  I  must  not  speak  of  that!* 
As  for  Mrs.  Appleton  and  Yates,  they  were  wild 
with  rage.  You  understand,  Mr.  Gaunt,  that  the 
birth  of  a  child  to  Garret  and  Natalie  robs  Yates 
of  his  full  share  of  his  father's  fortune,  and  he  is 
the  favorite  of  his  mother.  That  was  the  condition 
of  affairs  up  to  Garret's — death." 

**A  most  unfortunate  state  of  things.  Miss  EUers- 
lie,"  Gaunt  said,  sympathetically.  Then,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  he  added:  "This  is  a  deli- 
cate question,  but  I  must  get  at  the  root  of  the 
matter,  and  only  you  can  help  me.  Do  you  think — 
please  don't  misunderstand  me;  I  impute  nothing 
against  the  purity  of  your  sister — but  is  it  not 
possible  that  she  may  have  known  a  change  of  heart 
since  her  marriage?" 

"A  change  of  heart?'*  the  girl  repeated.  Then, 
her  tones  deepened,  and  grew  husky,  and  trembled 


THE  SISTERS  65 

with  contemptuous  indignation  as  she  added:  **Ah! 
I  see  what  you  mean!  They  have  even  dared  to 
imply  that!  That,  too,  was  to  have  been  a  part — " 
She  broke  ofF  suddenly,  breathing  quickly  in  great 
gasps,  her  perfect  control  for  once  shaken.  After 
a  pause,  which  the  detective  dared  not  break,  she 
went  on  in  a  more  even  voice: 

"My  sister  could  scarcely  find  warm  love  in  her 
heart  for  a  man  who  used  her  as  Garret  Appleton 
did.  Her  girlhood  dream  of  the  fairy-prince  was 
shattered  forever.  But  she  was  the  essence,  the 
soul,  of  loyalty.  Had  I  not  been  able  to  read 
between  the  lines  of  her  unconscious  confessions, 
I  should  never  have  known  from  her  letters  what 
misery  she  was  enduring  before  I  came,  and  she 
has  lied  to  me  vahantly,  when  I  found  great  bruises 
and  marks  upon  her  arms  and  body,  until  lying 
was  no  longer  possible.  She  does  not  complain  to 
anyone,  it  would  be  against  every  attribute  of 
her  nature;  but  people  who  frequent  the  house 
could  not  be  altogether  blind  to  the  conditions  that 
existed  here.  There  is  one  man  who  has  been 
sympathetic.  It  may  be  that  he  loves  her — I  do 
not  know;  but  I  am  sure  he  has  always  shown  her 
the  honor  and  respect  due  to  another  man's  wife, 
else  she  would  have  forbidden  him  the  house,  and 
— she  would  have  told  me.  She  is  impetuous, 
warm-hearted,  perhaps  a  little  volatile  in  some 
superficial  ways;  but  there  is  nothing  low  or  intrigu- 
ing, nothing  dishonorable,  in  her  nature." 


6G  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"And  you,  yourself,  Miss  Ellersllc?  You  ha'v* 
no  plans  for  the  future?" 

He  heard  the  soft  rustle  of  her  gown  as  she 
made  a  sudden,  startled  movement;  then  her 
hands  fell  quietly  in  her  lap. 

"My  engagement  to  Mr.  Randolph  Force,  you 
mean?"  she  queried,  her  voice  lingering  over  the 
name  in  an  involuntary  caress  as  she  spoke. 

The  detective  did  not  allow  his  surprise  at  this 
hitherto  undisclosed  fact  to  manifest  itself  in  his 
face. 

"That  is  a  thing  of  the  past.  We  were  to  have 
been  married  this  autumn;  but  I  would  not  leave 
my  sister,  in  her  sad  condition.  Now,  it  shall  be 
never.  I  shall  marry  no  one.  When  this  tragic 
mystery  is  solved,  or  buried  in  oblivion,  I  shall 
take  her  away  from  this  dreadful  house,  back  to 
our  home  in  the  South,  and  try  to  help  her  to 
forget  these  three  awful  years.  There  will  only  be 
her  little  child  to  remind  her,  and  it  may  in  time 
become  a  real  comfort  and  solace  to  her." 

"  But  you  ? "  exclaimed  the  detective.  "Why  have 
you  broken  your  engagement.  Miss  Ellerslie?" 

"I  shall  break  it,"  she  returned,  with  a  hint 
of  withdrawal,  of  aloofness,  in  her  tones;  "because, 
let  us  say,  I  have  experienced  a  'change  of  heart* 
' — at  any  rate,  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
present  case,  Mr.  Gaunt." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  rising.  "I  had  n© 
desire  to  seem  impertinent.     I  have  one  last  r«- 


THE  SISTEE9  67 

quest  to  make  of  you :  Will  you  allow  me  to  touch 
your  hair?  I  know  this  must  seem  strange  to 
you;  but  we  who  are  blind  see  mostly  with  our 
fingers,  you  know.  I  am  anxious  to  know  the 
color  and  texture  of  your  hair." 

"It  is  red,"  she  replied,  in  a  puzzled  tone,  "plain, 
unmitigated  red.  My  sister's  is  golden.  But — • 
yes,  you  may  feel  it,  if  you  like." 

Upon  his  frank  mention  of  his  affliction,  her 
resentment  at  his  apparent  prying  into  that  which 
lay  nearest  her  heart  had  vanished,  and  her  gentle 
voice  betrayed  a  deeply  compassionate  timbre 
which  reached  to  the  man's  very  heart-strings, 
as  no  pity,  no  tenderness,  had  ever  done  in  all  his 
clouded  life. 

She  leaned  forward  again,  and  once  more  the. 
clean,  pure  fragrance  of  her  assailed  him.  Hes 
placed  his  hand  for  an  instant  upon  her  soft  hair,^ 
and  then  withdrew  it  instantly,  in  a  manner  that, 
gave  no  hint  of  anything  save  the  purely  impersonal* 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  quietly.  "And  thank 
you,  also,  Miss  Ellerslie,  for  replying  to  my  seemingly 
impertinent  questions  so  frankly.  My  motives, 
as  you  know,  were  not  those  of  idle  curiosity.  Do 
you  think  that  I  might  venture  to  see  Mrs.  Apple-- 
ton,  your  sister,  now,  for  just  a  few  moments.?" 

"I  will  see.  I  think  so,  Mr.  Gaunt.  You  wil|' 
remain  here?" 

"Yes.  If  you  will  have  one  of  the  servants  let 
me  know,  I  will  go  to  her/' 


(68  AT  ONE-THIETY 

There  was  a  soft  rustle,  a  stirring  of  the  air,  and 
a  gentle  receding  footfall.  Gaunt  sat  where  she 
had  left  him,  a  prey  to  sensations  to  which  he  had 
in  all  the  past  been  a  stranger.  What  was  the 
peculiar,  overmastering  influence  that  this  woman, 
out  of  all  persons  with  whom  he  had  come  in  con- 
tact, seemed  unconsciously  to  exercise  over  him? 
Hsr  presence,  her  physical  and  mental  nearness, 
seemed  to  produce  an  intoxication,  an  exhilaration, 
an  inward  reaching  out  toward  her,  to  which  he 
could  give  no  name.  Could  it  be  that  he,  the 
keen,  calculating  dissector  of  human  motives  and 
emotions,  the  automaton,  from  whose  sightless 
eyes  the  world  of  romance  must  be  forever  hidden, 
was  falling  in  love  with  a  woman's  voice,  with  the 
indications,  manifest  to  his  wonderfully  acute 
intuition,  of  a  pure  and  lovely  nature? 

He  pulled  himself  up  short  in  his  line  of  thought 
with  a  strong  effort  of  will.  He  was  a  detective, 
an  officer  of  the  law,  engaged  in  the  perpetual 
battle  against  crime.  A  dead  man,  who — no  matter 
what  sins  had  blackened  his  private  life,  no  matter 
what  evilness  had  sullied  his  nature — had  been 
foully  done  to  his  death,  and  lay  separated  from 
him  by  only  a  wall  or  two,  mutely  begging  for  the 
only  justice  left  that  could  be  meted  out  to  him 
in  this  world,  demanding  vengeance  on  his  slayer! 
And  he,  Damon  Gaunt,  who  had  answered  that 
silent  call,  who  had  accepted  that  sacred  trust, 
was  idly  allowing  himself  to  drift  into  dangerous 


He  placed  his  hand  for  an  instant  upon  her  soft  hair,  then  withdrew 

it  instantly. 


THE  SISTEES  69 

byways,  lured  by  the  unconscious  charm  of  an 
innocent  siren!  Every  moment  wasted  in  idle 
thought  was  a  treachery  to  the  cold  clay  lying 
near,  the  thing  that  had  borne  at  least  the  semblance 
of  manhood,  the  father  of  a  little  unborn  child. 

And  there  was  work  ahead  for  him  to  do — 
work  that  would  require  the  full  play  of  all  his 
trained  faculties,  that  would  tax  his  every  resource 
to  the  uttermost.  Which  of  the  many  significant 
strands  he  held  in  his  hand  would  lead  to  the 
truth.?  Which  of  the  telltale  evidences  he  pos- 
sessed of  the  strange  and  varied  way  in  which  the 
secret  hours  of  the  night  had  been  passed  in  the 
den,  would  point  to  the  unknown  hand  that  had 
pressed  the  trigger.? 

Soft,,  light  footsteps  warned  him  of  Barbara 
Ellerslie's  return,  and  in  a  moment  her  quiet  tones 
thrilled  through  the  silence  of  the  room. 

"If  you  will  come  now,  Mr.  Gaunt,  please.  My 
sister  is  eager  to  talk  with  you." 

He  rose  and  followed  her  in  silence  until  she 
turned  to  guide  his  steps,  and  side  by  side  they 
went  up  the  great  staircase  together. 

At  the  door  of  young  Mrs.  Appleton's  room,  she 
halted,  and,  turning  to  him,  whispered  tremu- 
lously: 

"Remember  your  promise,  Mr.  Gaunt.  Be  very 
gentle  with  her.  She  has  suffered  so  much,  and  I 
fear  she  is  going  to  be  very  ill.  Please,  do  not 
take  too  seriously  any  random  remarks  she  may 


70  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

make.  She  seems  a  little  light-headed  to  me. 
Please,  please,  spare  her  all  you  can!" 

He  bowed  his  head  in  silent  reassurance,  and  she 
turned  the  doorknob  softly. 

**Natalie,  dear,"  she  said,  and  he  marveled 
anew  at  the  tender  mother-note  that  deepened 
in  her  tones,  "  here  is  Mr.  Gaunt.  He  must  see 
you  alone  for  just  a  minute,  dear.  He  will  not 
distress  you;  he  is  here  as  a  friend,  to  help  us 
in  our  trouble.  .  .  .  Sit  here,  please. 

She  guided  him  to  a  soft,  billowy,  absurdly  low 
chair,  and  he  heard  the  quiet  closing  of  a  door  behind 
her. 

A  little,  dry,  burning  hand,  like  a  bird's  claw, 
grasped  his  convulsively,  and  the  shrill,  high, 
childlike  voice  of  the  morning  cried  out  in  an- 
guished tones: 

"Oh,  Mr.  Gaunt,  who  did  it?  Who  killed  my 
husband  .f*" 

For  reply  he  raised  his  head  suddenly,  and  asked 
sternly : 

"Who  else  is  in  this  room?" 

"Why,  no  one — "  began  Natahe  Appleton;  but 
a  trembling,  aged  voice  interrupted  her, 

"Hit's  me,  suh.  Ah  jes'  couldn'  bear  ter  go 
'way  an'  leave  mah  chil'  'lone  wif  yo'.  She's 
reel  po'ly,  an'  she  needs  'er  ol'  mammy.  'Sides 
Ah  wanter  know  what  yo'  gwine  do  ter  'er!" 

"Why,  Mammy  Lu!"  the  girl — for  she  was  httle 
more — cried  out  in  distress.     "I  told  you  to  go  out 


THE  SISTESS  71 

— I  told  you!     I  want  to  talk  to  Mr.  Gaunt  alone. 
Why   didn't    Miss   Barbara    see   that   you  obeyed 


me 


"Mis'  Ba'b'ra  done  tola  me  ter  go;  but  I  was 
behine  de  do'  w'en  she  done  open  hit,'*  the  old 
woman  returned,  rebelliously.  "  Ain'  gwine  to 
have  mah  chil'  flustrated  no  mo*  dis  day!" 

"Well,  you  are  going  out  immediately!  Do  you 
hear  me,  Mammy  Lu?" 

Natalie  sat  up  on  her  pillows,  and  waited  until, 
with  much  grumbling  and  dubious  shaking  of  her 
head,  the  old  negress  had  taken  her  departure. 

"There,  she's  gone!"  Natalie  sank  back  with  an 
exhausted  air  upon  her  couch.  "I  didn't  intend 
to  deceive  you,  really,  Mr.  Gaunt.  I  didn't  know 
she  was  there.  She  brought  us  both  up,  Barbara 
and  me,  and  she  takes  liberties,  sometimes." 

"That  is  all  right,  I  quite  understand,"  he  re- 
turned, soothingly.  "Let  me  arrange  your  pillows 
for  you.     There!" 

He  deftly  smoothed  the  pillows  about  the  little 
face,  and  contrived  in  so  doing  to  get  a  strand  of 
her  hair  between  his  fingers.  He  paused  for  an 
imperceptible  instant  of  time,  and  then,  patting  a 
cushion  with  his  left  hand,  he  deliberately  took 
a  lock  of  her  shining  hair  between  the  fingers  of 
his  right,  and  felt  it.  It  was  soft  and  fine  and 
silky — the  identical  texture  of  the  slender  strand 
which  had  wound  around  his  fingers  a  few  hours 
before,  the  strand  he  had  taken  from  the  pendant 


72  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

of  the  low-hanging  brass  lamp  in  the  room  of 
death. 

She  smiled  up  at  him,  as  he  seated  himself  again, 
in  acknowledgment  of  his  kindness,  not  dreamed 
that  he  had  discovered  that  for  which  he  had 
searched  all  day,  and  discovered  it  where  he  would 
least  have  desired  to  come  upon  it. 

"Mrs.  Appleton,  I  don't  know  who  killed  your 
husband,"  he  replied  to  her  question,  at  last.  "I 
am  here  to  find  out,  if  I  can,  and  I  want  you  to 
help  me." 

"Me?  Why,  what  can  I  do,  Mr.  Gaunt?  How 
should  I  know  what  happened?  I  was  asleep — 
think  of  it!     Asleep,  through  it  all!" 

"Just  answer  a  few  questions  as  nearly  as  you 
can  remember,  Mrs.  Appleton;  try  to  think  clearly. 
I  want  to  know  just  what  occurred  after  dinner  last 
evening."      ^ 

"Nothing.  Everything  was  quite  as  usual — I 
mean,  as  usual  when  just  the — the  Carharts  dine 
with  us." 

"And  that  is  often?" 

"Yes,  very — that  is,  since  Garret's  mother  and 
brother  have  been  staying  with  us.  She  and  the 
Judge  played  double-dummy  bridge;  Barbara  went 
to  Clara  Shirley's  wedding;  Yates  went  out  some- 
where, too — I  don't  know  where.  I  didn't  feel 
very  well,  and  went  up  to  bed  early." 

"You  were  ill?" 

"N-no.     Just  not  very  well." 


THE  SISTERS  73 

"Were  you  unhappy,  depressed?  You  need 
not  be  afraid  to  answer  me  frankly.  I  have  talked 
with  Mrs.  Appleton,  and  your  brother-in-law  and 
sister.  I  know  the  situation  between  you  and 
your  husband.  You  went  up-stairs  to  be  by  your- 
self?" 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  suddenly  she  doubled 
her  little  fists,  and  beat  upon  the  soft-padded  arms 
of  her  chaise-longue. 

"Yes!"  she  burst  out  in  a  muffled  voice,  as  if 
from  between  clenched  teeth.  "Yes!  I  couMn't 
stand  it  zny  longer!  Her  presence  in  my  house, 
the  looks  that  passed  between  her  and  my  hus- 
band, the  glances  they  cast  at  me!  They  showed 
me  so  plainly,  they  showed  that  they  were  trying 
to  make  me  feel  that  I  was  an  interloper,  that  I 
stood  between  them  and  happiness.  Oh!  I  am 
not  jealous,  Mr.  Gaunt;  all  that  has  passed  long 
ago.  But  I  am  proud.  This  was  my  home,  and 
I  was  being  thrust  aside,  made  to  feel  of  no  account, 
a  stumbling-block,  whom  they  were  forced  to  tol- 
erate.    It  was  horrible!" 

"But  you  are  sure,  Mrs.  Appleton?  Perhaps 
your — the  state  of  your  health  makes  you  fanciful. 
Perhaps  your  husband  was  only  showing  ordinary 
courtesy  to  the  daughter  of  an  old  friend." 

With  a  convulsive  intake  of  her  breath,  she 
opened  her  lips  to  speak;  but  no  words  came. 
After  a  moment  of  silence,  she  said,  in  an  oddly 
constrained,  repressed  tone: 


T4  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"Yes,  I  am  sure — now!" 

"Why  now?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

"Because — oh,  anyway,  I — I  ought  to  know,  Mr. 
Gaunt."  She  spoke  with  child-like  querulousness, 
then  went  on  quickly:  "At  any  rate,  I  couldn't 
bear  to  stay  any  longer  watching  her  sitting  there 
in  my  drawing-room,  talking  and  looking  as  if  she 
wished  me  out  of  the  way.  I  thought  that,  if  she 
wanted  to  talk  to  my  husband  alone,  I  would 
give  her  an  opportunity;  so  I  excused  myself,  and 
came  up  to  bed.  I  disrobed,  and  tried  to  read; 
but  the  words  all  ran  together  in  a  jumble,  and  I 
couldn't  fix  my  mind  on  anything.  I  thought  of 
telephoning  the  doctor  for  a  sleeping-powder — he 
had  told  me  when  I  felt  very  nervous  and  upset 
to  let  him  know.  But  then  I  remembered  the — 
the  people  down-stairs,  and  that  they  would  make 
inquiries,  and  Garret  would  say  I — I  had  done  it 
for  effect.  So,  I  decided  to  wait  until  Barbara 
came  home." 

She  paused,  and  Gaunt  took  her  little  hot  hand 
in  his  for  an  instant,  in  silent  encouragement. 

"And  did  you?"  he  urged  her,  gently. 

"Y-yes."  The  high,  bell-like  voice,  with  the 
little  suggestion  of  her  sister's  in  its  drawling 
sweetness,  faltered,  and  then  went  on  hastily: 
**When  she  returned.  Mammy  Lu  t-told  her  I 
was  nervous,  and  she  came  in,  and  we  talked  for 
a  little  while,  and  she  quieted  me — she  always  can — ■ 
and  I  f-fell  asleep." 


THE  SISTER9  75 

Why  did  she  hesitate,  and  stumble  so  over  her 
simple  recital? 

"You  did  not  wait  for  your  husband  to  come 
up-stairs  ? " 

"Oh,  no!"  the  matter-of-fact  tone  was  infinitely 
pathetic  in  its  unconsciousness.  "Garret  never 
troubled  to  come  in  and  say  'good  night'  to  me — 
lately.  He  usually  sits  down  in  the — the  den — " 
her  trembling  voice  sank  to  a  whisper;  she  had  not 
yet  realized  the  truth  fully;  she  had  not  yet  learned 
to  speak  of  her  husband  in  the  past  tense — "until 
long  after  everyone  else  in  the  house  is  asleep.  He 
stays  there,  drinking  by  himself  until  he  is  in  a 
stupor." 

"I  understand.  Well,  Mrs.  Appleton,  what  is 
the  next  thing  you  remember?"  His  voice  was 
still  gentle,  but  it  held  a  compelling,  insistent 
underlying  note  to  which  she  involuntarily  re- 
sponded. 

"I  woke  up  with  terrible  screams  ringing  in  my 
ears,  and  I  heard  quick  footsteps,  as  of  someone 
running  along  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs.  I 
threw  on  something,  and  ran  down,  too.  I  heard 
a  commotion  in  the  den,  and  rushed  to  it.  Every- 
one seemed  to  be  there,  the  servants  and  all — all 
but  Mammy  Lu.  I  found  out  later  that  she  was 
hiding  up-stairs,  frightened  half  to  death.  And 
Yates — 1  didn't  notice  him  anywhere.  And  then 
— I  saw  Garret!  He  was  sitting  in  his  big  chair 
by  the  table,   staring  straight  at  me  with   awful. 


76  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

bulging  eyes,  and  there  was  a  great  red  blotch  on 
his  shirt-front.  The — the  next  thing  I  knew,  I 
was  in  Barbara's  arms,  hiding  my  face  on  her 
shoulder  to  keep  from  seeing  Garret.  I  don't 
remember  what  happened  after  that,  except  begging 
some  strange  men — police  oScers,  I  think  they 
were — to  let  me  leave  that  dreadful  room,  and 
come  up  here." 

"Mrs.  Appleton,"  Gaunt's  voice  was  very  grave, 
"at  what  time  were  you  in  the  den  yesterday?" 

"In  the — d-den?"  she  stammered;  and  the 
detective  could  hear  the  silken  coverlet  shiver 
with  her  involuntary  start.  "I — I  haven't  been 
in  the  den.  I  can't  remember  when  I  was  there 
last — days  ago,  any  way.  Why  d-did  you  ask 
me  that?" 

"Think,  Mrs.  Appleton.  Try  to  remember," 
he  urged,  his  gravity  deepening,  as  he  ignored  her 
question.  "  You  were  in  the  den,  y^ou  knowl 
Think!" 

"But  I  wasn't!  I  wasn't!  What  do  you  mean? 
What  are  you  trying  to  insinuate!"  her  voice  rose 
shrilly,  in  hysterical  trepidation. 

"Don't  you  remember?"  he  persisted,  a  note  of 
sternness  creeping  into  his  tones.  "You  caught 
your  hair  on  that  brass  hangm^;  lamp." 

While  she  watched  him,  in  terrified  fascination, 
he  drew  slowly  from  his  vest-pocket  the  telltale 
strand  of  hair,  and,  gripping  one  end  firmly  between 
his  fingers,  he  held  it  out  to  her. 


THE  SISTERS  77 

"See!  This  is  your  hair,  isn't  it?  It  matches 
yours.  I  found  it  caught  on  one  of  the  swinging 
pendants  of  the  lamp." 

She  snatched  at  it,  in  a  frenzy  of  terror. 

"It's  not  mine!"  she  screamed.  "I  thought 
you  were  bhnd!     How  can  you  tell?" 

"Think,  Mrs.  Appleton,"  he  repeated,  sternly. 
"When  were  you  in  the  den?  When  did  you  catch 
your  hair  on  the  lamp  ?  " 

There  was  silence,  while  she  draw  a  deep,  quiver- 
ing breath,  like  a  hurt  animal.  At  last,  she  gave 
a  little  shuddering,  hysterical  laugh,  which  ended  in 
a  strangling  gasp. 

"Why — why,  of  course,"  she  breathed  with  a 
catch  in  her  trembling  voice.  "How — how  stupid 
of  me!  I  was  in  the  den  the  day  before  yester — 
no,  yesterday  morning!  I  went  to — to — s-see  if 
the  maid  had  dusted  properly.  I — I  remember 
catching  my  hair  on  that  s-silly  old  lamp.  Garret 
would  have  it  hung  so  low!" 

"Ah!  I  thought  you  v/ould  remember."  Gaunt 
quietly  replaced  the  strand  of  hair  in  his  pocket; 
and  she  sav/  that  he  knew  her  suddenly  awakened 
remembrance  for  the  shallow  lie  that  it  was,  and 
shuddered. 

To  her  infinite  relief,  he  rose,  and  took  her  tremb- 
ling little  hand,  which  had  turned  suddenly  icy- 
cold,  in  his. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Appleton,  I  won't  worry  you  with 
questions  any  longer.     You  must  try  to  get  some 


78  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

rest  now.  I  shall  do  my  best  to  find  the  person 
who  is  responsible  for  this  morning's  tragedy, 
be  sure  of  that.  I  will  drop  in  on  you  again  when 
you  are  able  to  see  me." 

But  young  Mrs.  Appleton  did  not  seem  to  have 
heard.  Her  effort  at  self-control  had  been  too 
much,  and  she  appeared  on  the  verge  of  collapse. 

"Barbara!"  she  moaned.     "Barbara!  Barbara!" 

"Miss  Ellerslie!"  he  called.  There  was  no  need 
for  a  second  summons.  He  heard  an  inner  door 
open,  and  a  swift  rush  of  her  light  feet,  and  in  an 
instant  she  had  gathered  the  girl  in  her  arms. 
Natalie  Appleton  clung  to  her,  and  broke  into 
wild  weeping, 

"I'm  afraid  our  little  talk  has  been  too  much  for 
your  sister,"  Gaunt  explained,  smoothly.  "I  will 
leave  her  with  you." 

She  paid  no  attention  to  him,  and  he  made  his 
way  quietly  from  the  room,  closing  the  door  gently 
behind  him.  But,  as  he  felt  his  way  along  the  hall 
toward  the  stairs,  he  heard  young  Mrs.  Appleton's 
voice  raised  in  a  strangling  scream: 

"Oh,  Barbara!   He  knows!     He  knows  I " 


CHAPTER  V 

"gain!" 

GAUNT  encountered  Katie,  the  housemaid, 
in  the  hall,  and  she  guided  him  back  to 
the  library. 

"Oh,  sir,"  she  asked,  at  the  door,  "have  you 
found  out  anything?  Does  the  Inspector  gentle- 
man know  what — what  happened  to  Mr.  Apple- 
ton?" 

"Not  yet,"  he  returned.  "You  will  all  know  as 
soon  as  the  family  does." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  sir!"  she  stammered. 

"Will  you  send  the  butler — Dakers — to  me, 
please?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Dakers  was  tardy  in  coming,  and  in  the  mean- 
time Gaunt  turned  over  in  his  mind  the  result 
of  his  last  interview.  So  young  Mrs.  Appleton,  too, 
had  been  in  that  fatal  room  during  the  previous 
night!  That  telltale  strand  of  hair  had  given  her 
away,  and  her  agitation,  her  terror,  her  palpable 
falsehood,  had  betrayed  her  no  less  than  the  last 
despairing  cry  he  had  overheard.  It  was  incred- 
ible that  she  had  fired  the  shot  which  killed  her 
husband.  Yet  she  was  maddened  by  his  abuse  of 
her,    and    his    open    attention    to    another   woman 

79 


80  AT  ONE-THIRTT 

under  her  roof,  and  women  in  her  condition  were 
sometimes  rendered  temporarily  abnormal  men- 
tally. Would  that  account  for  the  pried-open 
window,  the  efforts  to  make  the  crime  seem  the 
result  of  an  ordinary  burglary?  Could  that  have 
been  the  work  of  the  devoted  sister?  She  had  the 
strength  of  mind  to  conceive  and  carry  it  out. 
She  was  resolute,  possessed  of  admirable  self-con- 
trol. Then,  too,  the  obvious,  sketchy  way  the  ruse 
had  been  perpetrated  hinted  at  feminine  illogic. 
Yet  it  did  not  seem  to  be  within  the  realm  of  pos- 
sibility that  young  Mrs.  Appleton  could  deliberately, 
or  on  insane  impulse,  have  taken  her  husband's 
life. 

Dakers  finally  made  his  appearance.  He  was 
bearing  a  huge  silver  tray  covered  with  a  napkin, 
and  he  placed  it  on  a  low  table  before  Gaunt,  with 
a  flourish. 

"A  bit  of  lunch,  sir,"  he  remarked  briskly.  "Mrs. 
Appleton — Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton — sent  it.  She 
said  you  must  be  famished,  sir.     It's  past  three." 

Gaunt  suddenly  became  conscious  that  he  was 
hungry,  wolfishly  hungry.  He  had  had  nothing 
that  day  save  his  early-morning  coffee,  and  he  ate 
heartily,  with  Dakers  standing  by. 

The  butler  was  a  pompous,  rotund,  little  man, 
with  sharp,  rat-like  eyes  in  his  smug  face,  and  large, 
soft,  white  hands. 

He  stood  regarding  the  detective  with  lofty  con- 
tempt while  the  latter  uncovered  the  dishes  upon 


«CAINI»  81 

the  tray;  but  his  expression  changed  somewhat 
when  Gaunt,  after  passing  his  finger-tips  Hghtly 
over  the  silver  tops  of  the  salt-  and  pepper-shakers, 
selected  the  one  with  the  smallest  perforations,  and 
poured  a  bit  of  its  contents  into  his  hand.  He  felt 
it  delicately  with  his  finger,  and  then  turned  to  the 
waiting  servant. 

"This  is  white  pepper,"  he  remarked,  quietly. 
"I  prefer  the  black.  Will  you  bring  me  some, 
please?" 

With  prompt  servility,  not  untinged  with  re- 
spectful awe,  Dakers  obeyed,  and  when  Gaunt, 
satisfied,  pushed  away  his  cup  and  plate,  and 
addressed  him,  he  replied  obsequiously. 

"You  are  the  butler  ?     How  old  are  you,  Dakers  ? " 

"Fifty-six,  sir.  I've  been  with  the  Appleton 
family  for  nine  years.  Before  that  I  was  with  the 
Staceys  and  the  Postleys — " 

"That's  all  right,  Dakers.  I  don't  want  your 
pedigree.  I  want  to  know  what  you  can  tell  me 
about  this  affair." 

"I,  sir?  Nothing,  sir,"  the  butler  replied,  with 
an  air  of  injured  innocence. 

"What  did  you  do  last  night,  after  you  served 
dinner?" 

"I  attended  to  my  usual  duties,  sir.  Locked 
up  the  silver,  and  carried  the  decanter  and  ice 
and  siphon  up  to  the — the  den,"  he  stammered 
over  the  v/ord  as  the  others  had  done,  "for  Mr. 
Appleton  to  use  later,  just  as  I  always  do.    Then 


82  AT  ONE-THTRTY 

I  went  down  to  the  servant's  dining-room — that's 
in  the  front  basement,  sir — and  stayed  until  the 
family  had  retired,  and  it  was  time  to  lock  up  the 
house.     Then  I  went  to  bed." 

**You  heard  nothing  during  the  night?" 

"Nothing,  sir,  until  Katie's  screams  woke  me. 
I  thought  first  of  burglars.  I  remembered  the 
plate  under  my  charge,  and  I  hurried  down." 

"And  then  what?" 

"When  I  saw  the  poor  master,  sir,  I — I  don't 
know  what  I  did,  I  was  that  shocked.  I  went  all 
to  pieces,  sir." 

"Who  was  there  before  you?" 

"I — I  hardly  know,  sir.  Katie  the  housemaid, 
and  Marie,  and  the  cook,  I  think,  and  Mr.  Yates* 
man,  James." 

"Then  the  family  came?" 

"Yes,  sir.  James  tried  to  buck  me  up,  and, 
when  I'd  pulled  myself  together  a  bit,  Mrs.  Finlay 
Appleton  sent  me  out  to  notify  the  police.  That's 
all  I  know,  sir." 

"After  you  attended  to  your  usual  duties,  did 
you  serve  anything  to  the  family  during  the  evening?* 

"Yes,  sir.  A  grenadine  lemonade  to  the  ladies — 
Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton  and  Miss  Carhart — and 
Scotch  highballs  to  Judge  Carhart  and  Mr.  Apple- 
ton." 

"Nothing  to  Mrs.  Garret  Appleton?" 

"No,  sir.     She  had  retired  when  I  served  them." 

"Did  you  come  up-stairs  again  before  locking  up?" 


"CAIN!"  83 

"Yes,  sir.  To  open  the  door  for  Judge  Carhart 
and  Miss  Carhart  when  they  left.  After  that,  I 
locked  the  house." 

'*You  did  not  admit  Miss  Ellerslie?" 

"No;  she  had  her  keys.  She  expected  to  be 
out  until  very  late.  It  was  Mr,  Appleton's  orders, 
sir.     I  never  waited  up  for  Mr.  Yates." 

"And  then  you  went  directly  to  bed?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That  will  do,  Dakers,  thank  you.  Ask  Marie 
to  come  here,  please." 

"Very  good,  sir."  Dakers  picked  up  his  tray, 
and  departed. 

Had  the  man  really  "something  up  his  sleeve," 
as  Inspector  Hanrahan  had  suspected?  He  had 
seemed  guilelessly  prompt  in  his  rephes;  but  his 
servility  was  misleading,  and  the  detective  did  not 
like  his  manner  of  licking  his  lips,  like  a  cat.  The 
man's  manner  suggested  slyness;  but  Gaunt  did 
not  credit  him  with  enough  intelligence  to  conceal 
any  important  evidence,  should  he  possess  it. 

Marie  heralded  her  entrance  with  a  quick  tapping 
of  pointed  finger-nails  upon  the  door,  and  exuded 
a  slight  odor  of  the  delicate  perfume,  when  she 
approached,  that  Gaunt  had  previously  noticed  in 
the  presence  of  the  elder  Mrs.  Appleton.  Evidently, 
the  maid  had  taken  a  secret  dip  into  her  mistress' 
scent  bottle,  in  honor  of  this  interview — a  touch  of 
coquetry  inherent  in  those  of  her  nationahty.  She 
was   a   sallow,    angular,    sharp-featured   woman   of 


S4>  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

middle  age,  with  bold,  black  eyes,  and  full,  scarlet 
lips,  and  she  flashed  a  respectful,  ingratiating  smile 
at  him,  with  a  gleam  of  her  even,  white  teeth, 
forgetting  for  the  moment  that  it  was  wasted. 

"I  am  here,  rnsieu.     I  am  Marie." 

"Will  you  tell  me,  Marie,  what  happened  when 
you  rushed  to  the  den  this  morning,  in  response  to 
the  housemaid's  cries?" 

"Weeth  plaisir,  rrisieu.  I  was  ze  firs'  to  respon*. 
Katee  was  still  shr-rieking,  and  the  poor  M'jieu 
Appleton — but  zat  you  know.  I  scream  once,  me, 
also,  an'  zen  I  try  to  quiet  Katee.  Zen  ze  cook, 
she  have  come,  and  Dakairs  and  James,  an'  zen 
Mees  Ellerslie.  Aftair  zat,  arrive  Madame  Apple- 
ton  and  la  petite  madame,  an',  at  ze  last,  Afsieu 
Yates." 

"Marie,  do  you  remember  exactly  what  happened 
when  Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton  turned  from  her  son's 
body,  and  saw  her  younger  son  standing  in  the 
doorway?  Did  you  hear  the  words  she  said  to 
him?" 

"Yes,  m^sieu.  She  pointed  her  hand  at  him, 
like  zis — oh,  I  forget!  Pardon,  rnsieu! — and  she 
say,  *Cain!'     Joost  zat   one   leetle  word,  *Cain!'" 

"Ah!"  the  detective  permitted  the  involuntary 
ejaculation  of  satisfaction  to  escape  him.  Then 
he  added:  "And  Mr.  Yates  Appleton — what  did 
he  reply?" 

"He  say,  * Mon  Dieu!* — no,  In  Engleesh — 'My 
God!     Not   zat — not   zat!*    An*   he    seenk   dov/n 


"CAIN!"  85 

on  his  knees,  zere  een  ze  doorway,  an*  put  hees 
hands  to  hees  face,  an'  sob,  joost  Hke  a  leetle 
chir,  an'  ze  tears  tr-reeckle  down  between  hees  fin- 
gairs. 

** Thank  you,  Marie.  That  is  all  I  wanted  to 
know.     Er — you  heard  nothing  during  the  night?" 

"Nosing,  msieu.  Onlee — "  The  woman  hesi- 
tated. 

"Only  what?"  the  detective  asked,  sharply. 

"Mees  Ellerslie,  msieu.  She  have  ze  room 
directly  ondairneath  mine,  an'  she  walk,  walk, 
most  of  ze  night;  but  nearly  ze  morning  have  ar- 
rive all  ees  quiet,  an'  I  sleep.  Zat  ees  all,  I  have 
hear.     No  report  of  a  pistol," 

"Very  well,  Marie.  That  will  do.  But,  before 
you  go,  I  should  like  to  know  if  your  mistress, 
Mrs.  Appleton,  permits  you  to  take  her  perfume 
for  your  personal  use. " 

"Her  pairfume?  I — I  do  not  comprehend,  m'sieul 
I  do  not  touch  ze  pairfume  of  madame. " 

"You  have  a  touch  of  it  upon  you  now.  I  should 
advise  you  to  be  more  careful,  if  you  wish  to  retain 
your  place." 

"Ah,  m'sieuy  eet  was  an  accident — ze  bottle 
teeped,  an'  I  'ave  speel  a  few  drops.  Eeet  ees 
nosing.  M'sieu,  I  pray,  weel  say  no  word  of  eet  to 
madavie!"  The  brazen  flare  in  her  voice  was 
replaced  by  an  anxious  note. 

"Very  v/ell,  Mary;  but  be  careful.  Please, 
send  Dakers  to  me  again.'* 


86  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

When  the  butler  appeared,  Gaunt  sent  him  to 
ask  Miss  EUerslie  to  come  to  him  for  a  moment, 
and  then  sat  quietlv  waiting,  with  a  half-smile 
upon  his  lips.  ''Cain!'*  Mrs.  Appleton  had  brand- 
ed her  youngest  son.  She  believed  him  to  be  the 
midnight  visitant,  the  assassin  of  his  brother. 
She  herself  had  given  no  credence  to  the  clumsy 
evidences  of  burglary;  although  she  had  had  no 
time  or  opportunity  to  examine  them,  and  although 
she  had  so  stoutly  asserted  her  belief  in  them  to 
the  detective,  later,  and  simulated  amazement 
and  incredulity  when  the  truth  of  the  fabrication 
was  so  soon  made  manifest.  The  intricacies  of 
the  case  were  multiplying  with  almost  incredible 
rapidity;  but  soon  an  illuminating  light  must  be 
thrown  on  this  labyrinth  of  mystery,  and  a  way 
to  the  truth  be  revealed. 

The  footsteps  of  Miss  EUerslie  sounded  in  the 
hall,  and  she  entered,  closing  the  door  behind 
her. 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  you  did  not  keep  your  promise  to 
me,"  she  said,  with  a  world  of  reproach  in  her 
voice.  "Had  I  known  that  you  meant  to  torture 
my  little  sister  as  you  did,  I  should  never  have 
permitted  you  to  see  her.  I  implored  you  not  to 
tax  her  beyond  her  strength.  I  warned  you  that 
she  was  light-headed,  that  too  much  credence  must 
not  be  placed  upon  what  she  might  say." 

"I  am  very  sorry.  Miss  EUerslie.  I  tried  to  be 
very  gentle,  and  I  was  as  considerate  as  the  occa- 


«'CAINI"  87 

sion  would  permit.  I  merely  attempted  to  recall 
a  certain  incident  to  Mrs.  Appleton's  mind — and 
succeeded." 

"So  that  was  why  you  wished  to  touch  my  hair! 
I  could  not  imagine — "  She  broke  off  abruptly, 
then  added:  "If  you  had  told  me,  Mr.  Gaunt, 
if  you  had  shown  me  the  strand  of  hair  you  found 
entangled  in  the  pendant  of  the  lamp,  I  could 
have  told  you  that  my  sister  was  in  the  den  yester- 
day morning." 

"You  knew  it,  then?"  The  question  was  shot 
quickly  at  her. 

"Certainly,  since  I  suggested  it,"  she  replied 
composedly.  "Garret  had  been  complaining  that 
his  den  was  not  properly  dusted  and  put  in  order, 
and  I  did  not  want  any  further  aspersions  to  be 
cast  upon  my  sister's  housekeeping  ability  or 
inclination  by  those  members  of  the  household 
who  were  hostile  to  her.  .  .  .  But  you  sent  for 
me,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  believe?  I  do  not  want  to 
remain  away  from  my  sister  any  longer  than  is 
absolutely  necessary.  Her  condition  is  quite  alarm- 
ing. She  seems  to  be  almost  delirious,  and  I  have 
sent  a  messenger  for  the  doctor." 

"I  am  sorry,"  Gaunt  said  once  more.  "I  will 
not  detain  you  long.  You  told  me,  when  I  talked 
with  you  before,  if  you  remember,  that  this  morning, 
at  the  time  of  the  discovery  of  the  crime,  when 
Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton  turned  from  the  body  of  her 
elder  son,  and  saw  the  younger  standing  in  the  door- 


88  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

way,  she  spoke  to  him,  and  he  broke  down  and 
wept.     What  did  she  say  to  him?" 

"I  don't  know."  Barbara  Ellerslie's  hesitation 
was  apparent.  "I  did  not  hear  distinctly,  and  my 
whole  attention  was  given  to  my  sister."  , 

"You     heard     something,     however     Indistinct.  * 
What  did  It  sound Jike  ?     A  long  sentence  or  short  ? " j 

"Oh,  very  short.  Just  a-a  word,  I  think — a 
single  word." 

"Was  that  word  'Cain,'  Miss  Ellerslle?" 

"Please  don't  ask  me,  Mr.  Gaunt!"  The  dis- 
tressed cry  was  wrung  from  her.  "Remember, 
my  brain  was  overwrought,  distraught!  If  I 
fancied  that  was  said,  and  repeated  It,  It  would 
look  like  a  deliberate  accusation,  without  a  shadow 
of  proof  and  beyond  the  bounds  of  probability, 
and  I — I  will  not  seem  to  cast  such  an  imputation 
on  anyone.  If  that  Is  what  I  Imagined  I  heard, 
my  ears  may  have  misled  me.  Mrs.  Appleton, 
for  all  her  outward  calm  when  you  arrived,  must 
have  been  as  overwrought  as  I — and  more,  since 
it  was  her  son  who  lay  dead  before  her.  One 
should  not  be  judged  by  what  one  says  or  does  in 
the  madness  of  such  a  moment.  There  is  little 
kindliness  on  my  heart  toward  her  and  hers,  God  ' 
knows;  yet  justice  Is  justice!" 

"I  understand.  Miss  Ellerslle,  and  I  am  an- 
swered. Did  Mr.  Yates  Appleton  reply,  as  ho 
broke  down,  *My  God!  Not  that!    Not  that!'?" 

"  Really,  I  cannot  tell  you.     It — It  sounded  some* 


"CAIN!"  89 

thing  like  that  to  me;  but  I  cannot  commit  my- 
self. I  paid  little  or  no  attention.  I  cannot, 
will  not,  make  any  statement  concerning  it!  And 
nov*^,  Mr.  Gaunt  may  I  return  to  my  sister?  She 
needs  me.  It  is  not  safe  to  leave  her  now  in  Mammy 
Lu's  care  alone,  even  for  a  moment." 

"Yes,  Miss  Ellerslie.  I  will  not  detain  you  any 
longer.  Thank  you  for  coming  down  again.  I 
may  perhaps  call  tomorrow,  when  I  hope  your 
sister  will  be  better.  Pleasej  assure  her  that  she 
need  not  be  afraid  of  me."  Then,  as  he  felt  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  him  in  sudden,  questioning  sus- 
picion, he  added  with  a  smile:  *'I  am  not  quite 
an  ogre!" 

"I  will  tell  her,  Mr.  Gaunt,"  her  voice  was 
reassured,  but  infinitely  sad,  as  she  said,  in  an 
afterthought,  "when  she  is  able  to  understand. 
She  seems  very,  very  ill.  I  am  in  fear  for  her 
safety,  her  reason.  Let  me  know,  of  course,  if 
there  is  anything  further  that  I  can  do,  can  tell 
you.  And  if  any  further  developments  occur, 
I  should  like  to  know  of  them,  for  all  our  sakes. 
Good-by." 

She  left  the  room,  and  for  a  few  moments  the 
detective  sat  buried  in  thought.  How  loyally, 
how  valiently,  she  had  lied  for  the  woman  up- 
stairs! And  yet  she  might  have  been  sticking  to 
the  letter  of  the  truth;  her  sister  might  have  gone 
to  inspect  the  den  the  previous  morning.  But 
that  she  had   visited   it   later,   sometime,   in   fact. 


90  AT  ONE-THIETY 

during  the  hours  of  the  night,  and  that  Barbara 
Ellerslie  knew  of  it,  was  patent.  Young  Mrs. 
Appleton*s  terror  at  his  question,  and  the  agonized 
cry  he  had  overheard  from  outside  her  door,  were 
damning  proof. 

He  rose,  and  rang  the  bell. 

"Ring  for  my  car,  please,'*  he  directed,  giving 
the  number  when  the  butler  appeared.  "And 
tell  Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton  that  I  have  finished 
here  for  today,  and  will  let  her  know  at  once  when 
I  have  any  definite  news  for  her,  or  require  further 
information.     Is  Inspector  Hanrahan  here.f"' 

"No,  sir.  He  went  an  hour  ago.  He  may  be 
back  at  any  moment,  sir.  Would  you  care  to 
wait?"  Dakers'  respect  had  evidently  increased. 
A  detective  who  could  afford  to  keep  a  private  motor 
was  foreign  to  his  experience,  and  must  be  a  person 
of  some  importance. 

Gaunt  encountered  Inspector  Hanrahan,  who 
returned  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  departure. 

"Anything  new?"  he  asked. 

"Got  him,"  was  the  Inspector's  succinct  reply. 

"Got  him!    Who?" 

"Louis  Lantelme,"  Inspector  Hanrahan  ex- 
plained. "  The  valet  Mr.  Appleton  kicked  out 
a  month  ago — the  fellow  the  housemaid,  Katie, 
was  stuck  on.  I'm  afraid  he's  got  a  good  ahbi, 
though,  for  last  night.  He  told  a  pretty  straight 
story,  and  one  that  can  be  easily  proved.  Got 
anything  yourself,  Mr.  Gaunt?" 


"CAIN!"  91 

"Not  very  much.  There's  something  I  want 
you  to  do  for  me,  though.  Find  out  for  me  the 
hour  Mr.  Yates  Appleton  left  the  Patriarchs* 
Club  last  night." 

"What's  that.?"  the  Inspector  asked,  in  eager 
surprise. 

"Oh,  not  what  you  think  it  is!"  smiled  Gaunt. 
**I  know  where  he  was  all  the  rest  of  the  night. 
It's  no  question  of  an  alibi.  I  just  want  to  know 
the  exact  time  he  left  the  club,  and  I  haven't  time 
to  look  it  up,  myself.  The  door-man  can  tell 
you;  and  possibly  some  of  the  waiters,  or  card- 
room  attendants,  can  corroborate  him." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Gaunt;   I'll  attend  to  it." 

"And  you  might  drop  around  to  my  rooms  to- 
night, if  you  find  this  out  in  the  meantime,  and  can 
spare  an  hour.  I  may  have  a  few  pointers  for 
you. 

"I  will." 

Gaunt's  chauffeur  was  waiting  in  the  vestibule 
to  pilot  him  unobtrusively  to  his  machine;  but 
once  he  was  ensconced,  and  the  engine  cranked, 
they  remained  stationary. 

"What's  the  matter,  Saunders?"  the  detective 
asked,  through  the  tube. 

"'Nother  car  and  an  undertaker's  wagon  blockin' 
the  way,  sir." 

An  undertaker's  wagon!  The  last  act  of  the 
tragedy  of  the  night  was  about  to  be  enacted  for 
Garret  Appleton,_and  the  curtain  rang  down  upon 


92  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

an  unadmirable  career.  What  a  misspent  life, 
a  waste  of  golden  opportunities,  culminating  in 
a  hideous  end!  What  Nemesis  could  have  stamped 
that  look  of  blank  fear  and  horror  upon  the  dying 
features?  What  had  occurred  in  that  dark  hour, 
before  the  shot  was  fired  which  so  relentlessly 
hurled  him  into  eternity? 

When  Gaunt  alighted  at  his  own  door,  he  said 
to  the  chauffeur: 

"Saunders,  I  sha'n't  require  the  car  tonight;  but 
I  want  you  to  do  a  bit  of  detective  work  for  me — 
the  sort  of  thing  you've  done  before." 

"Yes,  sir!"  Saunders  replied,  eagerly. 

"Go  to  the  Appleton's  private  garage.  You 
can  easily  find  it.  It's  just  around  the  corner, 
I  believe,  from  their  house,  from  which  you  just 
brought  me.  Scrape  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Yates 
Appleton's  chauff'eur.  If  he  isn't  there,  find  out 
where  he  lives,  or  where  he  may  be  found,  if  he's 
idle  tonight — and  I  fancy  he  will  be.  Take  him 
out,  if  he'll  go,  and  treat  him,  or  give  him  any 
story  you  please,  but  try  to  get  out  of  him  his 
exact  movements  last  night,  and  when  he  took 
Mr.  Appleton  from  the  club,  where  they  went, 
and  all  that.  Find  out,  also,  if  Mr.  Yates  Apple- 
ton  by  any  chance  injured  his  hand  while  out  in 
the  machine  last  night.     Understand?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Guess  it  will  be  easy,  sir.  I'll  try, 
anyway." 

"Here's   a   ten-dollar  bill   for  expenses.     If  it's 


"CAIN!"  93 

any  more,  let  me  know;  but  get  the  truth  If  you 
can,  no  matter  what  it  costs." 

*'Yes,  sir.     Thank  you,  sir." 

Jenkins,  Gaunt's  man,  fell  upon  him  anxiously 
at  the  door. 

"Glad  you've  come,  sir!"  he  exclaimed.  "Miss 
Barnes  has  been  hoping  you'd  be  back  for  three 
hours,  or  more.  Three  telegrams  and  two  long- 
distance calls  from  Newport.  Big  jewel  robbery 
at  the  Fahnestock  place!     Shall  I  pack?" 

"No,  Jenkins.  Can't  take  it,"  Gaunt  replied, 
laconically.  "  I'm  on  a  case  now,  as  you  very  well 
know." 

"I,  sir?"  Inquired  Jenkins,  with  an  air  of  Inno- 
cence. "I  remember  a  gentleman  called  this 
morning,  and  you  went  out  with  him;  but  how 
should  I  know  you  were  on  a  case,  sir?" 

"Because  you've  got  an  evening  paper  In.  your 
hand  at  this  moment.  I  can  hear  it  rattle.  And 
it's  the  latest  edition — probably  an  extra — not 
the  early-afternoon  one  we  always  take  anyway; 
for  I  can  smell  fresh  ink  upon  It.  You  read  of  the 
case,  and  my  connection  with  It,  In  the  afternoon 
paper,  and  sent  out  and  got  another,  later  one. 
You  can't  fool  me,  Jenkins." 

As  the  detective  turned  toward  the  library, 
Jenkins  murmured  after  the  departing  figure: 

"No,  I'm  blest  if  I  can!  You  can  see  more  with- 
out eyes  than  most  men  can  with  'em! 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    CUFF    LINK 

""H^  yTISS  BARNES,  look  back  over  the  news- 
^  I  paper  files  in  the  store-room,  in  the 
society  news  of,  say,  three,  four,  five, 
and  six  years  ago,  and  read  me  whatever  you  find 
relating  to  the  Appleton  family,  at  East  Sixty- 
eighth  Street,  will  you?'* 

Gaunt  was  stretched  out  at  ease  in  his  own 
familiar,  favorite  chair,  pipe  in  mouth,  and  Scrap- 
per, the  bull-terrier,  at  his  feet.  He  was  thinking 
over  the  evid-ence  gathered  during  the  day's  in- 
vestigation, sifting  the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  and 
he  found  it  no  easy  task.  He  had,  in  the  course 
of  his  career,  become  interested  in  many  baffling 
cases,  but  none  that  presented  such  complications, 
such  a  multiplicity  of  possible  motives  and  pos- 
sible culprits.  Yates  Appleton,  at  war  with  his 
brother  over  that  which  was  to  him  the  most 
vital  thing  in  life,  money;  the  wife,  maddened 
by  abuse  and  jealousy;  the  other  girl,  who  had  so 
plainly  betrayed  her  love  for  him. 

The  detective  made  no  mistake  in  his  analysis 
of  the  situation  that  had  existed  between  Doris 
Carhart  and  Garret  Appleton.  Here  was  no  vul- 
gar intrigue.     That  he  had  been  as  much  in  love 

94 


THE  CUFF  LINK  95^ 

with  her  as  she  so  obviously  with  him,  and  that 
the  wife  had  stood  between,  was  possible,  even 
probable. 

But  the  girl  was  of  a  type  readily  recognized  by 
Gaunt,  a  type  prevalent  everywhere  in  America 
at  least;  particularly  so  in  New  York  society: 
the  flirt  incarnate,  the  girl,  who,  in  spirit  half- 
wanton,  half-puritan,  plays  with  fire,  yet  holds 
herself  rigidly  aloof  from  the  all-consuming  flame. 
It  might  be  that  she  had  been  fascinated  by  the 
mahcious  delight  of  a  flirtation,  with  a  married 
man,  carried  on  under  his  helpless  wife's  eyes, 
careless  of  the  suffering  she  caused,  and  had  dis- 
covered that  in  the  process  her  own  heart  had  been 
singed,  but  no  more.  Perhaps  she  had  hoped  that 
a  divorce  might  be  arranged,  and  she  step  into 
Natalie's  shoes;  but  the  prospect  of  an  heir  had 
precluded  that.  Perhaps — ^who  could  tell,  now? 
— he  had  tired  of  what  was  to  him  a  purposeless 
game,  and  had  told  her,  on  that  momentous  even- 
ing, that  they  had  come  to  the  parting  of  their 
ways.  In  any  event,  might  she  not  have  returned 
stealthily  for  a  final  interview,  previously  arranged 
between  them,  and,  in  a  moment  of  madness, 
slain  him,  determined  that,  since  she  could  not 
possess  him  before  the  world,  no  other  woman 
should?  In  that  case,  her  horror  and  astonish- 
ment of  the  morning  had  been  consummately  sim- 
ulated, and  her  nerve  and  courage  supreme.  He 
believed  her  capable  of  it;  but  it  seemed  scarcely 


96  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

credible  that  she  could  be  capable  of  the  crime 
itself,  and  the  practical  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
her  clandestine  departure  from  her  own  house 
in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning,  and  a  return 
,  unobserved  to  the  Appleton  mansion,  seemed  well- 
nigh  insurmountable. 

"Young  woman  to  see  you,  sir."  Gaunt  had 
been  so  lost  in  thought  that  he  had  not  heard 
the  approach  of  Jenkins.  "Says  she  comes  from 
the  Appleton  house.  She  seems  kind  of  upset- 
like." 

"Ask  her  to  come  up,  please."  The  detective 
rose  hastily,  and  pushed  Scrapper  gently  into  an 
Inner  room,  closing  the  door  upon  him.  A  young 
girl!  The  method  of  Jenkin's  announcement  sug- 
gested one  of  the  domestics.  Could  it  be  that, 
in  interviewing  only  the  principals  in  the  affair, 
and  the  only  two  of  the  servants  whose  informa- 
tion he  had  thought  would  be  of  most  immediate 
use  to  him,  he  had  overlooked  an  important  link 
in  the  chain? 

Jenkins  returned,  ushering  in  a  pretty,  red- 
cheeked  maid,  whose  blue  eyes,  although  sullen 
and  frightened,  glowed  with  determination.  Jen- 
kins eyed  her  in  bold  admiration;  but  with  a  toss  of 
her  head  she  dismissed  him  from  her  interest,  her 
gaze  fixed  upon  the  tall  figure  before  her,  the  thin, 
ascetic  face  softened  by  a  kindly  smile,  as  if  he 
could  see  her  standing  there,  trembling,  but  reso- 
lute, in  the  doorway. 


THE  CUFF  LINK  97 

"Who  is  it,  please?"  he  asked  quietly,  as  she 
remained  tongue-tied. 

"'lis  me,  sor,  Katie  Gerahty.  I'm  house- 
maid at  the  Appleton's — " 

*'Aye,  yes.  Come  in,  Katie.  .  .  .  Jenkins,  that 
will  do.  Now,  Katie,  what  is  it  you  wished  to  see 
me  about?" 

"'Twas  me  that  found  the — the  corpse,  sor. 
I've  been  expectin'  all  day  long  that  you'd  ask  for 
me;  but  you  didn't,  an',  when  I  found  you'd 
gone,  I  thought  I'd  better  come  after  you."  ' 

"I  understand.  I  hadn't  time  to  interview  all 
of  you  today,  and  I  thought  Inspector  Hanrahan 
had  talked  to  you." 

"Sure,  he  had,  sor,  an'  a  fine  bully  he  is,  too. 
He'd  get  nothm'  out  of  me,  if  I  died  for  it,  talkin* 
to  me  as  if  I'd  killed  the  poor  master  meself!  I 
found  his  body,  sor — but  I  found  something  else 
beside,  an'  though  I  wouldn't  give  the  Inspector 
the  satisfaction  of  gettin'  it  from  me,  I'm  an  honest 
girl,  an'  I  don't  keep  nothin'  that  don't  belong  to 
me." 

"And  what  was  it  that  you  found,  Katie?  You 
did  right  to  bring  it  to  me."  Gaunt  with  difficulty 
restrained  his  eagerness. 

"This,  sor."  She  approached,  and  placed  in 
his  outstretched  hand  a  small,  golden  object.  His 
fingers  closed  quickly  over  it,  and  he  felt  it  all  over 
with  minute  care. 

It  was  a  man's  gold  cuff-link,  of  the  sort  that  are 


98  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

sometimes  given  to  ushers  at  weddings,  save  that 
the  initials  on  one  side,  and  the  date  on  the  other, 
instead  of  being  cut  in,  were  raised,  and  of  a  plain 
block  design.  The  detective's  delicate,  sure  finger- 
tips spelled  out  for  him  the  figures,  191 1,  and  on 
the  other  side  the  letters,  Y.  A. 
[_  "And  where  did  you  find  this,  Katie?" 

"In  the  den,  sor,  right  by  the  door,  when  I 
first  went  in.  Like  enough  it  had  rolled  or  been 
dropped  there." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  notice  it,  with  Mr. 
Appleton  sitting  there  dead  before  you?" 

"Well,  you  see,  sor,  it  was  kinder  dark  in  the  den 
when  I  opened  the  door — only  the  one  window 
open  and  the  shade  up  and  the  side  curtains  half- 
hiding  that.  I  wasn't  what  you  might  call  waked 
up  for  the  day,  either,  and,  when  I  seen  Mr.  Apple- 
ton  sittin'  there  in  his  chair,  I  thought  he  was 
sleeping.  'Twouldn't  be  the  first  time  that  I'd 
come  down,  savin'  your  presence,  and  found  him 
stupid  drunk  there  from  the  night  before.  Then 
I  seen  something  shinin'  at  my  feet,  an'  I  picked 
it  up,  and  afterward  went  clost  to  Mr.  Appleton 
to  wake  him  if  I  could — and  there  was  that  bloody 
splash  on  his  shirt-front,  and  the  awful  dead  face 
of  him  starin'  up  at  me.  I  screeched  then,  sor. 
In  th'  excitement  after,  I  forgot  all  about  the  cufF- 
button  that  I  dropped  in  me  apron-pocket,  until 
that  Inspector  began  asking  me  ugly  questions 
in  the  way  of  him,  and  sure  I  just  wouldn't  let  on 


THE  CUFF  LINK  9^ 

about  it.  I  was  afraid  after  to  give  it  to  one  of 
the  family;  so  I  thought  I'd  better  bring  it  to  you." 

"Very  well,  Katie.  I  will  see  that  it  reaches 
the  owner."  Then,  as  the  girl  seemed  to  hesitate, 
he  asked:  "Is  there  anything  more  you  wanted 
to  tell  me?" 

"Yes,  son  *Tis  about  that  French  thing — that 
maid,  Marie.  Before  you  come  this  mornin', 
she  slipped  away  from  the  crowd  of  us  around 
the  door  of  the  den,  and  I — ^well,  I  followed  her. 
She  had  a  funny  look  on  her  face,  and — ^well,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  sor,  she's  no  friend  of  mine. 
We  had  a  difference  about  a  young  man — but 
that's  neither  here  nor  there.  When  I  come  up 
with  her,  she  was  usin'  the  telephone  in  the  back 
hall.  I  heard  her  say,  'It  is  true,  mam'selle,  he 
is  dead — murdered!  I  thought  that  you  would 
wish  to  know  privately,  so  as  to  be  prepared  for 
the  shock  when  the  news  reaches  your  house.* 
Then  she  hanged  up  the  receiver  with  a  bang." 

"To  whom  do  you  think  she  was  speaking, 
Katie?  Have  you  any  idea?"  The  detective 
paused  and  then,  as  the  girl  made  no  answer,  he 
added:    "To  Miss  Doris  Carhart,  by  any  chance?" 

"How  did  you  know,  sor?"  The  girl's  surprised 
exclamation  was  involuntary;  but  she  went  on 
hastily:  "Of  course,  I  have  no  proof,  but — well, 
you  know  how  servants  sometimes-  sees  more  than 
they're  supposed  to.  I  have  been  thinkin'  for  a 
long  time  that  there  was  some  carryings-on  between 


100  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

Mr.  Appleton  and  the  Judge's  daughter,  and  that 
this  Marie  was  kinder  helping  them  out.  'Twas 
just  a  suspicion  of  mine,  an'  I'm  not  paid  to  carry 
no  tales." 

"I  understand,  Katie.  I  won't  quote  you. 
You  are  a  very  bright  girl,  and  you  have  helped  me 
a  lot.  If  you  see  anything  going  on  that  you  think 
I  ought  to  know,  come  to  me,  here.  I'll  make  it 
worth  your  while.  .  .  .  By  the  way,  Katie,  why 
don't  you  wear  glasses,?  You're  very  near-sighted, 
and  you  should  have  it  corrected.  You  don't 
want  to  become  like  me,  you  know,"  he  added, 
with  a  smile. 

"My  eyes  do  De  troublin'  me  a  lot,  sir.  I  don't 
see  how  you  know  about  that!"  Her  round  eyes 
grew  wider  as  she  spoke. 

"Your  ankles  are  weak,  too.  You  should  wear 
stouter  shoes,"  he  commented.  "You  stumble 
a  little,  and  you  are  a  little  uncertain  in  your  walk, 
also,  although  you  are  not  heavy-footed.  You 
take  very  short  steps,  and  plant  your  heel  down 
first.  That  shows  you  are  near-sighted,  and  afraid 
to  strike  out,  because  of  turning  your  ankle  and 
i  falling." 

"Well,  sor,  it  beats  all  how  you  knew;  but  it's 
true!"  Katie  backed  away  toward  the  door  as  she 
spoke,  and  felt  desperately  behind  her  for  the 
knob.  She  desired  above  all  things  to  get  away 
from  this  uncanny  presence.  "I — I'll  come  again, 
sor,  if  I  hear  anything  more!"     And  she  departed. 


THE  CUFF  LINK  101 

After  the  girl  had  gone,  Gaunt  sat  for  some 
moments  turning  the  cufi-button  over  and  over  in 
his  hands.  Out  of  the  seemingly  hopeless  array  of 
conflicting  evidence,  some  facts  began  to  dove- 
tail magically,  and  to  suggest  an  almost  impossible 
hypothesis,  from  which  the  detective,  accustomed 
as  he  was  to  studies  of  the  darker  side  of  human 
nature,  shrank. 

The  reappearance  of  Miss  Barnes  put  an  end  to 
his  reflections  for  the  time  being. 

"I  have  found  several  references,  Mr.  Gaunt," 
she  said,  "in  the  society  news  of  five  and  six  years 
ago  to  the  Appleton  family;  but  they  are  merely 
announcements  of  receptions,  dinners,  dances,  and 
so  forth,  although  you  may  wish  me  to  read  you 
the  lists  of  the  guests.  But  four  years  ago — 
four  years  last  April,  to  be  exact — there  is  the 
announcement  of  the  engagement  between  Mr. 
Garret  Appleton  and  Miss  Doris  Carhart,  daughter 
of  Judge  Anthony  Carhart,  of  the  Supreme  Court. 
Three  months  later,  in  July  of  the  same  year,  there 
is  an  announcement  of  the  breaking  of  that  en- 
gagement." 

"That  was  something  I  had  not  looked  for," 
Gaunt  murmured  to  himself.  Then  aloud:  "Go 
on,  please,  Miss  Barnes." 

"I  thought  you  might  like  me  to  look  up,  also, 
while  I  was  among  these  old  files,  any  articles  I 
might  find  referring  to  the  Carharts." 

The   detective   smiled   in   grateful   appreciation. 


102  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"I  find  that  in  October  of  the  previous  year — 
five  years  ago — Miss  Carhart  made  her  debut,  and 
in  December  of  that  year  she  was  bridesmaid  at 
the  Lancaster-Dubois  wedding.  All  other  refer- 
ences are  practically  the  same  as  those  relating  to 
the  Appleton  family — invitations  to  social  affairs 
at  their  house,  or  appearances  at  the  opera.  In 
November,  four  months  after  the  breaking  of  the 
engagement  with  Miss  Carhart,  comes  the  announce- 
ment of  Mr.  Appleton's  engagement  to  Miss 
Natalie  Ellerslie,  of  Louisville,  Kentucky,  and, 
in  the  following  March,  that  of  their  marriage, 
All  the  later  references  to  them  which  I  have  been 
able  to  discover  are  merely  those  of  social  affairs, 
and  among  the  guests  listed  Miss  Carhart's  name 
and  Judge  Carhart's  appear  almost  invariably.'* 

"Thank  you  very  much.  Miss  Barnes,  and  now 
— ^what  time  is  it  please?" 

As  if  in  answer,  six  silvery  notes  sounded  from  the 
bronze  clock  on  the  mantel,  and  Gaunt,  taking 
up  the  telephone  receiver,  called  up  the  Bryant 
Chambers,  and  asked  for  Mr.  Maurice  Livingston. 

"This  is  Mr.  Livingston.  Who  is  it,  please?" 
came  in  a  hearty,  good-natured  voice  over  the 
wire. 

"Mr.  Gaunt  is  speaking — Mr.  Damon  Gaunt. 
You  have,  no  doubt,  Mr.  Livingston,  heard  of  the 
sudden  death  of  Mr.  Garret  Appleton.  I  have 
been  retained  by  the  family  to  investigate  matters 
for  them.    In  the  course  of  my  work,  I  have  inter- 


THE  CUFF  line:  103 

viewed  Mr.  Yates  Appleton,  and,  as  a  mere  matter 
of  form,  I  should  like  to  see  you,  if  you  can  spare 
me  a  few  moments,  to  corroborate  some  of  his 
statements.'* 

*'If  you  can  come  at  once,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  give  you  any  assistance  in  my  power. 
I    have    a    dinner   engagement   at   seven    o'clock." 

"I  can  be  with  you  in  ten  minutes,  Mr.  Liv- 
ingston." 

''Very  good." 

The  receiver  clicked,  and  Gaunt  summoned 
Jenkins  for  his  hat  and  coat,  and  to  call  a  taxi- 
cab.  Jenkins,  too,  accompanied  him  to  Bryant 
Chambers,  and,  under  the  guidance  of  the  hall- 
boy,  conducted  him  to  the  door  of  Mr.  Livingston's 
apartment,  after  which  he  returned  to  the  cab, 
to  v/ait. 

■  The  detective  was  admitted  by  a  haughty  English 
valet,  and  conducted  to  the  living-room.  After 
a  few  moments'  delay,  he  heard  a  brisk,  buoyant 
step,  and  the  voice  that  had  replied  to  him  over 
the  telephone  sounded  in  his  ears." 

"Sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  Mr.  Gaunt; 
but  I  was  dressing.  Terrible  thing  that  about 
poor  Garret.  Yates  must  be  completely  knocked 
out. 

Gaunt  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  voice,  and 
his  foot  inadvertently  touched  the  projecting  claw 
foot  of  the  table. 

"I  don't  see  why  Parker  didn't  turn  the  rest  of 


104  at;one-thirty 

the    lights    on,"    his    host    exclaimed    irritably,    as 
he  pressed  the  button  in  the  wall. 

"The  lights  make  no  difference — to  me,  Mr. 
Livingston.     I  am  blind.'* 

"You — oh,  I  see!  I  beg  your  pardon.  Why, 
I  have  heard  of  you,  of  course.  You  were  the 
man  who  worked  out  those  famous  Delamater 
murders.  By  Jove!  Sit  down,  Mr.  Gaunt,  and 
tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you.  Will  you 
have  a  cigar?  These  are  of  Porto  Rican  tobacco, 
made  for  me." 

"Thank  you.  But,  Mr.  Livingston,  your  cigar- 
maker  must  have  been  mistaken  in  his  blend. 
These  are  the  shape  and  size  of  Porto  Ricos,  but 
the  tobacco  is  Havana." 

"Is  it?     By  Jove!  I  ordered  Porto  Ricos." 

"Can't  you  tell  the  difference?"  asked  the 
detective,  with  a  smile. 

"Not  unless  they  are  lighted,  and  not  always 
then.  I  thought  I  was  something  of  a  connois- 
seur of  tobacco;  but  you  have  me  beaten.  They're 
identical  in  color." 

"Some  growths  are;  but  the  odor  is  unmistakable, 
if  your  nose  is  trained  to  distinguish  the  difference. 
Then,  too,  feel  the  shape  of  the  leaf,  even  as  tightly 
rolled  as  these  are.  They  are  undoubtedly  Ha- 
vana. But  I  did  not  come  to  take  up  your  time 
by  an  idle  discussion  concerning  tobacco.  I  came 
for  some  information  which  only  you  can  give 
me. 


THE  CUFF  LINK  105 

"You  wanted  to  ask  me  something  about  Yates 
Appleton,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  wanted  to  know  what  time  he  got  to  your 
rooms,  last  night.     About  one  o'clock?" 

"Just  about — I  could  not  say  exactly.  I  had 
been  to  the  theater  and  supper,  and  was  just 
thinking  of  turning  in  when  he  appeared." 

"Nice  state  he  must  have  been  in,  too,"  the 
detective  remarked,  with  studied  carelessness;] 
'*with  one  cufF  flying  open." 

"Yes!"  laughed  Mr.  Livingston,  with  the  hearty 
stomach  laugh  of^a  fat  man.  "I  had  to  lend  him 
a  pair  of  cufF-buttons.  He  seemed  awfully  worked 
up  and  excited;  but  then  he  was  a  bit — ^well,  you 
know," 

"Yes,"  Gaunt  smiled,  "I  know.  .  .  .  You  have 
known  Mr.  Yates  Appleton  long,  Mr.  Living- 
ston?" 

"Known  him  and  his  brother  all  my  life,"  the 
other  returned.  "This  shock  may  pull  Yates  up 
and  steady  him.  It's  a  frightful  affair.  Garret 
Appleton  was  shot  by  a  burglar  during  the  night, 
wasn't  he?" 

"That  is  the  case  as  it  stands  now,"  replied  the 
detective.  "You  cannot  give  me  any  more  definite 
information  as  to  the  time  Mr.  Yates  Appleton 
called  on  you  last  night,  can  you?" 

"Sorry,  I  can't.  My  man  had  gone  to  bed,  and 
I  was — well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I 
was  a  little  foggy  myself." 


106  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

Gaunt  laughed. 

"All  right,  Mr.  Livingston;  I  quite  understand. 
I  won't  detain  you  any  longer.  Thank  you  for 
allowing  me  to  intrude  upon  you  in  this  way." 

"Oh,  it  was  no  intrusion  at  all,  I  assure  you. 
I'll  be  only  too  glad  to  help  in  any  way  I  can.  Call 
on  me  any  time  you  Hke." 

On  the  way  back  to  his  rooms,  in  the  taxi.  Gaunt 
mused  over  the  information  he  had  just  received. 
Yates  Appleton's  friend  had,  indeed,  corroborated 
the  statement,  although  in  so  vague  a  fashion, 
as  to  the  time  of  the  call  upon  him;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  had  all  unwittingly  corroborated 
the  damning  evidence  of  the  little  link  of  gold — • 
the  link  in  the  disconnected  chain  of  events  which 
proved  that  some  time  during  the  evening  Yates 
had  returned  to  his  home,  had  been  in  the  room 
where  a  few  hours  later  his  brother  was  found 
done  to  death.  If  the  testimony  of  the  attendants 
at  the  club  should  show  that  Yates  Appleton  really 
left  there  at  about  midnight,  as  he  had  said,  it 
would  leave  a  rather  close  margin  of  time  for  him 
to  have  gone  home,  held  an  interview  of  what- 
ever nature  with  his  brother,  and  arrived  at  the 
rooms  of  Maurice  Livingston  by  one.  A  great  deal 
depended  now  upon  Saunders'  success  in  obtain- 
ing information  from  the  Appleton  chauffeur  as 
to  where  he  had  driven  the  car  from  the  time 
of  leaving  the  club  to  the  arrival  at  Bryant  Cham- 
bers. 


THE  CUFF  LINK  107 

His  simple  dinner  over,  the  detective  sat  in  his 
library,  waiting  the  promised  visit  of  Inspector 
Hanrahan  with  ill-concealed  impatience.  One 
problem  of  the  morning  kept  recurring  to  his  mind : 
Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton  must  have  thought  her 
younger  son  guilty  of  the  murder,  else  she  would 
not  have  turned  from  the  body  of  Garret  with 
the  cry  of,  **Cain!"  upon  her  lips.  Yet,  why, 
in  that  case,  had  she  proceeded  immediately  to 
obtain  the  services  of  a  detective  of  wide  repute, 
to  investigate  the  murder  and  discover  the  cul- 
prit? 

But  stay!  Had  he  been  retained  to  discover 
the  truth,  or,  as  Yates  had  informed  him,  to  pre- 
vent as  much  of  the  police  interference  as  possible? 
Would  Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton  or  her  son  later 
approach  him  in  an  attempt  to  influence  him  by 
a  bribe,  or  otherwise  to  cloak  the  true  facts  of  the 
case  in  their  interest? 

The  inspector  arrived  about  nine. 

"Mr.  Yates  Appleton  left  the  club  about  ten 
minutes  of  twelve,  Mr.  Gaunt.  The  carriage- 
starter  says  so,  and  the  coat-room  boy  confirms 
him,  because  Mr.  Appleton  particularly  asked 
him  the  time.  .  .  .  Got  anything  new,  sir?  There 
is  nothing  in  that  Louis  Lantelme  theory.  The 
man's  alibi  proved  to  be  complete." 

"Did  you  get  any  more  out  of  Dakers,  the 
butler?"  the  detective  asked,  after  a  pause. 

"No,  sir." 


108  AT  ONE-THIETY 

Something  in  the  detective's  face  made  the 
burly  Inspector  lean  forward  suddenly,  his  hands 
on  his  knees. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?     What  do  you  think?'* 

"Watch  him!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

THIRTY   PIECES    OF    SILVER 

AUNDERS,    the    chauffeur,    presented    him- 
self bright  and  early  the  following  morning; 
but   his    ruffied    manner   was   expressive   of 
defeat. 

"Sorry,  sir,"  he  commenced.  "I  found  your 
man  all  right — Mr.  Appleton's  chauffeur.  I  spent 
your  ten  and  another  five — no  man  who  drinks 
like  that  has  any  right  to  run  a  car.  But  I 
couldn't  get  a  thing  out  of  him  of  much  account, 
except  that  nothing  happened  to  Mr.  Appleton's 
hand  that  he  knew  anything  about.  He  left  the 
club  a  little  before  twelve,  drove  round  town  for 
awhile,  and  then  to  Bryant  Chambers.  There 
they  picked  up  a  friend  of  Mr.  Appleton's,  and  went 
on  around  town  for  a  couple  of  hours,  stopping 
at  two  or  three  all-night  cafes.  At  about  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  chauffeur  took  both  the 
young  gentlemen  home.  That's  all  I  could  find 
out,  sir;  but — " 

"But,  what  Saunders?" 

"Well,  sir,  it  looked  to  me  like  the  fellow  wasn't 
telling  me  the  truth,  altogether.     He  hemmed  and 
hawed,  and  had  kind  of  a  sly  way  with  him  v/hen 
he  was   talking,   though  he  talked  quick  enough. 

lOQ 


110  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

I  had  a  kind  of  an  idea  that  he  was  onto  me — 
that  he  knew  I  was  trying  to  get  something  out 
of  him." 

"Very  well,  Saunders.  You  have  done  the  best 
you  could. 

"Here  is  the  extra  money  you  have  spent,  and 
another  five  for  yourself.  Got  the  car  waiting 
outside?" 

"Yes,  sir — thank  you,  sir." 

"Then  I  think  I  will  have  you  take  me  up  to 
the  Appleton  house.  There  is  something  I  over- 
looked yesterday — " 

But  Gaunt  got  no  further.  As  he  turned  to  press 
the  button  in  the  wall  to  summon  Jenkins,  that 
indefatigable  person  appeared  in  the  door,  and  his 
apologetic  cough  held  a  slightly  perturbed  note. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Gaunt.  There's  a  man  down- 
stairs who  wants  to  see  you.  He's  very — per- 
sistent, sir.     Says  his  name's  Dakers." 

"Very  well,  Jenkins.  Hold  him  below  for  two 
or  three  minutes,  until  Saunders  gets  out.  .  .  . 
Saunders,"  he  turned  to  where  the  chauffeur 
stood  fingering  his  cap,  beside  the  table,  "go 
down  and  wait  in  the  car.  I  sha'n't  be  long.  I've 
changed  my  mind  about  going  to  the  Appleton 
house;  but  I  shall  want  you  to  take  me  somewhere 
else,  immediately." 
;^   "Very  good,  sir.     I'll  be  cranked  up,  waiting." 

Dakers!  The  suave,  servile  butler  of  the  Apple- 
tons!    The   man   whom   Inspector   Hanrahan   felt 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER  HI 

sure  had  "something  up  his  sleeve'*!  Had  he 
discovered  some  facts  which  he  felt  to  be  of  im- 
portance, in  the  hours  that  had  elapsed  since  the 
detective  had  interviewed  him  the  previous  day; 
or  had  he,  for  some  purpose  of  his  own,  withheld 
certain  knowledge  in  his  possession,  until  he  felt 
it  to  be  no  longer  politic,  or  even  safe,  to  do  so?      ' 

In  a  few  moments,  Jenkins'  step  could  be  heard 
approaching,  accompanied  by  the  stealthy,  cat- 
like tread  that  Gaunt  remembered  from  the  day 
before,  and  Dakers  stood  before  him. 

The  detective  did  not  speak  until  his  man  had 
retired,  and  then  he  took  a  bold  lead: 

"Well,  Dakers,"  he  said,  quietly,  "you've  de- 
cided to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  have  you?  Sit 
down,  and  be  sure  this  time  that  you  tell  me  the 
truth." 

"It  was  the  truth  that  I  told  you  yesterday, 
sir,  I  assure  you,  sir,  only — only,  it  wasn't  all  the 
truth.  There  was  something  about  the  night 
before,  sir,  that  I — I  didn't  mention." 

"I  thought  not.     Well,  go  on — out  with  it!" 

"It  was  all  just  as  I  told  you,  sir.  I  attended 
to  my  usual  duties,  putting  away  the  silver  after 
dinner,  serving  refreshments  to  the  family  during 
the  evening,  placing  the  decanter  <ind  glasses  in 
the  den,  opening  the  door  for  Judge  Carhart  and 
Miss  Carhart  when  they  left,  and  then  locking 
up  the  house.  I  went  to  bed.  But  I  couldn't 
sleep,  and  I  got  up  after  a  bit,  and  came  down- 


112  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

stairs  again  to  get  a — a  little  something  for  my- 
self, sir." 

"A  drink— whisky?" 

"A — a  little  brandy,  sir.  I  was  very  much  sur- 
prised when  I  came  near  the  den,  to  hear  voices — 
loud,  angry  voices.  I  thought  at  first  Mr.  Garret 
was  talking  to  himself.  He  does,  sometimes,  when 
he's  alone,  in  the  night  like  that,  sir.  But  then  I 
heard  two  voices,  and  I — I  recognized  the  second 
one." 

The  man  paused,  his  voice  trembling  huskily. 

"Who  was  it?"  the  detective  asked,  sternly. 
:    ''Mr.— Mr.  Yates,  sir." 

"What  was  he  saying?" 

"I  couldn't  repeat  the  exact  words,  sir;  but  they 
were  having  an  argument — a  quarrel.  Mr.  Yates 
wanted  some  money  from  his  brother,  quite  a  lot 
of  money.  He  kept  repeating  that  he  had  to  have 
it  at  once.  I  think  he  called  it  'a  debt  of  honor,* 
or  something  like  that.  He  mentioned  a  card  game 
at  the  club,  I  think — but  I  wasn't  what  you  might 
call  listening,  sir.  I  wouldn't  so  far  forget  myself. 
The  door  of  the  den  was  open,  and  I  was  just 
outside  in  the  hall,  waiting  for  a  chance  to  slip 
past  and  out  to  the  butler's  pantry.  Mr.  Garret 
had  begun  his  night's  drinking,  and  he  was  in  an 
extra  ugly  mood,  sir,  sneering  at  Mr.  Yates,  and 
taunting  him,  and  working  him  up,  until  at  last — '* 

"Go  on." 

"There  was  a  snarl  from  Mr.  Yates,  and  then 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER  US 

the — the  sound  of  a  blow.  I  didn't  see  it,  of  course, 
sir;  but  it  must  have  been  Mr.  Yates  who  struck, 
because  there  was  a  regular  bellow  of  rage  from 
Mr.  Garret,  and  then  he  ordered  his  brother  out 
of  the  house." 

"Did  he  go  at  once?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir.  I  didn't  wait  to  see;  I 
didn't  want  to  hear  any  more.  I  turned  and 
went  back  to  my  room  as  quick  as  I  could,  for 
fear  they'd  come  out  and  find  me." 

"Did  you  hear  anything  after  that,  anything 
that  sounded  like  a  shot,  for  instance?" 

"No,  sir,  nothing.  My  room  is  at  the  very  top 
of  the  house,  and  I  shut  my  door  tight,  and  went 
back  to  bed.  And  that's  all  I  know.  That  was 
everything  I  heard  until  Katie  screamed,  in  the 
early  morning,  and  I  rushed  down  to  find  Mr. 
Garret  dead  in  his  chair." 

"At  what  time  did  you  leave  your  bed,  Dakers, 
and  go  down-stairs  for  the  brandy?" 

"At  a  little  after  twelve,  sir." 

"And  how  long  did  you  remain  standing  outside 
the  door  of  the  den?  How  long  before  the  blow 
was  struck,  and  Mr.  Yates  Appleton  was  ordered 
from  the  house?" 

"I  couldn't  rightly  say,  sir.  Not  more  than  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes,  at  the  longest;  for,  when  I  got 
back  to  my  room,  it  was  half-past  twelve  by  my 
clock." 

*^Are  you  sure?    What  made  you  look  to  see?" 


114  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

The  questions  came  like  a  rapid-fire  shot;  but  the 
butler  was  ready  for  them. 

**I  knew  Miss  Ellerslie  would  be  home  soon  from 
the  wedding-reception,  and  I  wondered  if  she 
would  hear  them  quarreling,  sir,  or  if  Mr.  Yates 
would  go  to  his  rooms,  or  take  himself  out  of  the 
house  again  before  she  came." 

"H'm!  Why  did  you  come  to  me  today  and 
tell  me  this?    Why  didn't  you  tell  me  yesterday?" 

The  butler  hesitated  a  fraction  of  a  second  too 
long. 

"Well,  sir,  I — I've  been  with  the  family  too 
long.  It  didn't  seem  fair  to  give  any  of  them 
away  like  that — although  I  don't  owe  Mr.  Yates 
Appleton  anything!"  The  note  of  resentment 
that  crept  into  his  voice  at  the  last  words  was  un- 
mistakable, and  illuminating.  "  He's  never  done 
me  a  good  turn  in  his  life.  But  I  was  afraid,  if 
the  police,  or  you,  sir,  found  out  that  he'd  come 
back  and  quarreled  with  his  brother  in  the  night, 
they  might  think  he'd — he'd  killed  him,  sir,  espe- 
cially as  he'd  struck  him." 

*'And  what  made  you  change  your  mind, 
Dakers?'* 

"Well,  after  I'd  thought  it  all  over,  it  didn't 
seem  right  to  keep  anything  back — like  interfer- 
ing in  the  course  of  justice,  sir." 

**I  understand  what  you  mean,  Dakers.  But 
why  didn't  you  go  to  Mrs.  Appleton — the  elder 
Mrs.  Appleton?" 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER  II5 

"What,  sir?  I  don't  quite  see,  sir!"  The 
butler's  suave  tones  were  blended  with  a  note  of 
amazement  and  alarm. 

Gaunt  smiled  quietly  to  himself. 

"When  Mr.  Yates  Appleton  refused  to  pay  you 
for  your  silence,  why  didn't  you  go  to  his  mother? 
You  won't  get  anything  out  of  it  by  coming  to  me, 
you  know,  and  Mrs.  Appleton  would  have  paid 
you  well." 

The  butler  cringed  suddenly. 

"I  don't  know  how  you  knew  it,  sir;  but  it's 
true.  After  all,  it  wasn't  anything  to  be  ashamed 
of,  sir.  I'm  a  poor  man,  and  what  I  knew  was 
worth  money.  But  Mr.  Yates  wouldn't  bargain 
with  me.  Just  flew  in  a  rage,  and  used  dreadful 
language,  and  ordered  me  out  when  I  called  to 
see  him  last  evening.  I  did  try  to  see  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton;  but  she  sent  down  word  that  she  was  indis- 
posed, and  wouldn't  receive  anyone.  I  don't 
think  the  little  note  I  sent  up  to  her  at  the 
Blenheim  Hotel  last  evening  was  ever  deHvered 
to  her,  though,  or  she  would  have  seen  me  right 
enough.  I  couldn't  get  admitted  to  her  this 
morning  either,  and  I  knew  it  was  no  good  trying 
Mr.  Yates  again.  I  was  afraid,  too,  that  you,  or 
the  Inspector,  might  find  out  any  minute  what  I 
knew,  and  I  thought  I'd  better  come  and  tell  you. 
I've  got  to  think  of  my  character,  sir." 

"Well,  you've  thought  of  it  rather  late,  Dakers. 
Do  you   realize   that,   if  anything  comes   of  this. 


116  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

you  may  be  subpoenaed  to  appear  in  court  and 
testify,  and,  when  it  comes  out  that  you've  dehb- 
erately  kept  this  evidence  back  in  order  to  try  to 
get  money  from  the  family  for  your  silence,  you 
may  be  arrested  for  attempted  blackmail?" 

"Blackmail!"  the  man  fairly  shrieked.  "Oh, 
sir,  no — not  that!  My  character  would  be  ruined, 
sir!  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  get  another  place,  and 
I've  worked  faithfully,  all  my  life,  for  the  very 
best  people.  I  didn't  intend  it  as  blackmail,  sir 
— indeed,  indeed,  I  didn't!  It  was  only  a — a 
favor,  like,  to  the  family,  and  they  could  well  afford 
to  pay  for  it.  I  never  thought  of  blackmailing 
anybody — never ! " 

"Well,  considering  that  you  came  to  me,  anp 
told  me,  of  your  own  free  will,  Dakers,  I'll  see  what 
I  can  do  for  you.  But  mind  you  keep  this  quiet, 
without  a  word  to  anyone,  and  hold  yourself  in 
readiness  to  testify  whenever  I  want  you." 

"Yes,  sir,  of  course;  anything  you  say,  sir.  I'm 
sure  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  do  whatever  you 
say!"  At  his  dismissal,  the  frightened  Httle  man 
scurried  out,  as  if  only  too  glad  to  escape  from  the 
dreaded  presence  of  the  detective. 

Gaunt  wasted  no  time,  but,  summoning  Jenkins 
for  his  hat  and  coat,  descended  to  the  car. 

"The  Calthorp,  Saunders,  and  look  sharp." 

The  air  was  crisp  and  searchingly  cold,  in  the 
first  keen  frost  of  early  autumn,  and  the  swift  rush 
of  sharp  wind  seemed  to  clear  Gaunt's  thoughts,  and 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER  117 

send  his  blood  racing  through  his  veins.  The  task 
before  him  was  a  difficult  one.  Although  it 
seemed  that  the  case,  on  the  face  of  it,  was  all 
but  cleared  up,  and  the  mystery  of  Garret  Apple- 
ton's  death  solved,  there  were  several  points  still 
lost  in  obscurity,  points  of  glaring  significance. 
It  was  evident  that  the  butler  had  told  all  he  knew. 
Gaunt  had  so  thoroughly  frightened  him  by  the 
threat  of  punishment  for  attempted  blackmail 
that  he  would  eagerly  have  disclosed  anything 
further  of  which  he  might  have  been  cognizant, 
to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  detective,  and  thus 
possibly  save  his  own  skin.  It  seemed  incon- 
ceivable that  he,  lying  awake  and  probably  on  the 
qui  vive  for  any  further  sounds  of  strife  and  dis- 
cension  from  below,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  his 
room  was  at  the  top  of  the  house  and  his  door 
closed,  would  not  have  heard  the  revolver  shot, 
had  Garret  Appleton's  life  been  ended  durmg  the 
ensuing  moments  of  his  quarrel  with  his  brother. 
More  than  that,  Yates  knew  that  Barbara  Ellerslie 
might  return  at  any  moment,  and  walk  in  upon  the 
scene  of  the  tragedy,  unless  in  the  heat  of  his  rage 
and  passion  this  had  passed  quite  from  his  mind. 

But,  if  he  had  killed  his  brother,  would  he  have 
walked  out  of  the  house,  leaving  the  traces  of  his 
crime  for  any  casual  discovery,  only  to  return 
hours  later,  and  attempt,  as  well  as  he  could,  to 
change  the  scene  to  represent  the  murder  as  the 
outcome  of  a   burglary?     It  seemed   unthinkable. 


118  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

as,  by  the  testimony  of  his  own  friend,  he  had 
left  in  a  far  more  intoxicated  condition  than  when 
he  had  come  to  him,  at  approximately  one  o'clock, 
directly  after  the  quarrel.  And  if  he  had  been  in  a 
sufficiently  clear-headed  condition  to  1  ave  attempted 
to  cover  the  traces  of  his  crime,  would  he  not  have 
remembered  the  damning  bit  of  evidence  left 
behind  earlier  in  the  night — the  cufF-lInk,  which, 
the  housemaid  had  stated,  lay  in  plain  view  before 
the  door  of  the  den  ? 

If  not  he,  then  who  in  that  household  would  have 
attempted  to  change  the  appearance  of  the  room 
in  which  the  dead  man  sat?  Who  would  have  had 
the  necessary  strength  of  character  and  nerve  to 
have  conceived  such  a  plan,  and  have  carried  it 
to  fruition?  Only  two,  from  Gaunt's  observations, 
and  both  of  these  were  women.  Barbara  Ellerslie 
would  have  been  capable  of  it;  but  the  only  motive 
strong  enough  to  impel  her  to  such  an  act  would 
have  been  her  conviction  that  her  little  sister  was 
guilty.  That  was  a  matter  which  might  still 
remain  to  be  looked  into.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  elder  Mrs.  Appleton  had  chanced  to  enter  the 
room  of  death  in  the  early  hours  of  the  morning, 
she  would  have  had  the  strongest  motive  in  the 
world  for  attempting  to  conceal  the  true  state 
of  affairs.  Her  denunciatory  cry  of  "Cain!"  when 
she  stood  beside  her  dead  son's  body  proved  that, 
momentarily  at  least,  she  had  thought  Yates 
guilty    of    his    brother's    murder.     Yet,    she    had 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER  119 

proceeded  to  send  at  once  for  the  detective  with 
the  biggest  reputation  of  his  time.  Gaunt  found 
himself  back  at  the  same  point  of  reasoning  as  on 
the  previous  day. 

They  reached  the  Calthorp,  an  ornate  and  im- 
posing bachelor  apartment,  a  stone's-throw  from 
the  avenue,  and  Saunders  guided  him  to  the 
apartment  that  Yates  Appleton  had  arranged  to 
take  on  the  previous  day. 

[>,/*!  think  Mr.  Appleton  is  in;  but  I  doubt  if  he'll 
see  you,"  the  clerk  at  the  desk  had  informed  them. 
**He's  been  saying  he's  out  to  everyone  who's 
called;  but  he  hasn't  'phoned  down  any  orders 
to  us  about  it,  so  I  guess  you  can  go  right  up." 

**0h,  he  will  see  me,  I'm  sure,"  Gaunt  replied 
easily,  with  an  engaging  smile,  and  stepped  into  the 
elevator. 

As  they  pressed  the  bell  at  the  door  of  the  apart- 
ment, they  distinctly  heard  a  hurrying  about  within 
and  a  hasty  snapping  sound,  as  of  the  lids  of 
trunks  or  suit-cases  being  hurriedly  closed.  Then, 
after  a  little,  James  appeared  at  the  door. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Gaunt!"  he  said.  "It's  too  bad,  sir! 
I  suppose  you  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Appleton?  He's 
gone  away." 

"Surely  he  hasn't  gone  yet,"  returned  the  de- 
tective, stepping  resolutely  into  the  hall  of  the 
apartment.  Saunders  waited  rather  uncertainly 
outside.     "You  haven't  finished  repacking  yet." 

"No,  sir.     I — I'm  to  follow  him,  sir." 


120  AT  ONE-THIRTt- 

"Where  is  Mr.  Appleton  going,  James?" 

**I  d-don*t  know,  sir."  The  man  was  plainly 
agitated.  "He's  to  let  me  know  where  to  go  to 
him,  and  when." 

"It's  very  strange  that  he  should  go  away  like 
this,"  Gaunt  remarked.  "I  do  not  think  he 
intended  it  yesterday,  else  you  would  not  have 
unpacked,  and  now  be  repacking  again." 

"No.  He — he  decided  quite  suddenly,  sir."  The 
man  seemed  anxious,  far  too  anxious,  for  the  de- 
tective's departure.  He  added  desperately,  still 
holding  the  door  open:  "I'll  tell  him  when  I  see 
him,  sir,  that  you  called." 

"I'm  quite  sure  he  hasn't  left  the  city — ^yet.'* 
Gaunt's  tone  was  still  bland;  but  there  was  an 
under-note  of  finality  that  increased  the  valet's 
perturbation.  "He  will  probably  return  for  a 
few  moments  at  least,  or  telephone  to  you.  I 
think  I  will  wait." 

"It  won't  be  the  slightest  use,  sir — "  the  man 
began  hastily. 

But  Gaunt  interrupted  him  sternly. 

"I  will  wait." 

"I'm  very  sorry,  sir,"  James  burst  out,  at  last; 
"but  I  have  strict  orders  from  Mr.  Appleton  to 
admit  no  one,  and  I  must  obey  him,  sir." 

"I  am  the  detective  employed  in  this  case," 
the  other  thundered,  "and  I  will  remain  here 
until  Mr.  Appleton  returns!  I  shall  go  to  Mrs. 
Finlay   Appleton,   or   to   the   police,   if  necessary. 


•THIETY  PIECES  OF  SILVER  121 

to  enforce  my  demand.  You  are  making  things 
look  very  black  for  your  master  by  behaving  in 
this  manner,  James!" 

"I — I  was  only  trying  to  carry  out  his  orders, 
sir,"  the  valet  faltered.  "I'm  sure  I'm  very  sorry, 
sir.  I  don't  suppose  he  meant  them  for  you — 
he  didn't  have  an  idea  that  you  were  coming." 

James  closed  the  front  door,  shutting  out  the 
faithful  Saunders,  and  led  the  way  into  the  li- 
brary. 

The  detective  seated  himself,  and  asked,  turn- 
ing his  head  from  side  to  side  as  if  glancing  about 
him. 

*'Who  else  is  in  this  apartment,  James?" 

"Here,  sir?"  the  valet  started  nervously.  "Why, 
no  one,  sir." 

"I  distinctly  smell  tobacco  smoke,"  Gaunt 
remarked,  very  quietly. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  James  affirmed  in 
a  faint  voice,  as  if  the  words  were  fairly  dragged 
from  him. 

it  was — me,  sir. 

"You?  Does  Mr.  Appleton  permit  you  to  smoke 
in  his  rooms?" 

"Why — ^why,  no,  sir,  of  course  not!  But — 
but  in  his  absence — " 

"I  understand.  Very  reprehensible  of  you, 
James,  very!  And  what  was  it  you  were  smoking 
— in  Mr.  Appleton's  absence?" 

"A — a  cigar,  sir." 


122  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"One  of  your  master's?** 

"No,  sir.  Mr.  Appleton  smokes  cigarettes 
only." 

"Then  where  did  you  get  it,  James?" 

"I — I — I  found  it,  sir,*'  the  valet  blurted  out. 

"Where?**  the  question  fell  crisply  from  Gaunt's 
lips. 

"Here,  sir.  The — the  gentlemen  who  had  these 
rooms  before  must  have  left  it  behind." 

The  detective  smiled. 

"Very  well,  James.  I  won't  keep  you  any  longer 
from  your  task.  I  will  wait  here,  however,  until 
we  hear  from  Mr.  Appleton." 

And  Gaunt  waited.  An  hour  passed,  then  two 
and  three,  and  still  he  sat  there  patiently,  while 
the  valet  finished  his  packing,  and  then  hung 
nervously  about,  and  the  silence  seemed  to  deepen 
so  that  the  street-sounds  were  carried  up  to  them 
with  startling  distinctness. 

At  length,  the  house  telephone  in  the  hall  rang 
sharply,  and,  with  an  exclamation  that  sounded 
very  much  like  one  of  relief,  James  hurried  to  it, 
with  Gaunt  at  his  heels.  The  hall  was  narrow, 
and  the  telephone  hung  on  the  wall,  facing  a  closed 
door.  As  the  detective  paused  just  back  of  the 
valet  at  the  instrument,  he  heard  a  slight,  al- 
most indistinguishable  sound  in  the  room  behind 
him,  which  caused  him  to  take  a  cautious  step  or 
two  backward. 

"Yes,   sir,"   the  valet  was  saying  eagerly.     "Is 


THIRTY  PIECES  OF  SILVER  123 

that  you,  sir?  Mr.  Gaunt  has  been  here  a  long 
time,  waiting  to  see  you.  I  told  him  you'd  gone 
out  of  town;  but  he  was  sure  you'd  return,  or  tele- 
phone. What,  sir?  At  his  own  rooms  in  an  hour? 
Very  good,  sir;  I'll  tell  him."  The  receiver  clicked, 
and  the  valet  turned  hastily. 

"It  was  Mr.  Appleton,  sir.  I  don't  know  where 
he  is — he  didn't  say — but  he  hasn't  left  the  city 
yet,  sir,  as  you  thought.  He  told  me  to  say  that 
he  will  call  at  your  rooms  in  an  hour,  sir,  to  see 
you. 

For  answer.  Gaunt  turned  and  hurled  himself 
at  the  closed  door  behind  him.  It  yielded,  and 
precipitated  him  within,  and  he  sprang  in  the 
direction  of  a  startled,  quickly  smoothered  curse 
that  assailed  his  ears. 

"Oh,  no,  Mr.  Appleton!"  he  said.  "I  won't 
trouble  you  to  come  to  my  rooms.  We'll  have 
our  little  talk  here  and  now.  I  thought  your 
man  was  lying  from  the  start;  but  I  was  sure  of 
it  when  he  said  he  had  been  smoking  a  cigar.  The 
tobacco  odor  I  noticed  was  that  of  a  cigarette. 
That  was  a  very  ingenious  scheme  of  yours,  to  call 
up  your  valet  on  the  house  'phone,  from  your 
own  private  wire  here  in  your  room;  but  I  heard 
your  voice,  and  the  click  of  the  receiver,  through 
the  closed  door.  Now,  we  will  come  to  an  under- 
standing!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  THE   WATCHES    OF   THE    NIGHT 

WELL,  you've  ^ot  me,  Gaunt!"  the  young- 
er man  said,  sullenly.  "I  told  James 
to  say  that  I  was  out,  because  I  didn't 
want  to  be  annoyed  any  more.  I'm  in  a  terrible 
state  over  this  whole  affair,  I  tell  you — terrible! 
I'll  go  crazy  if  I  have  to  talk  it  over  any  more! 
That's  the  only  reason  why  I  didn't  want  to  see 
you,  or  anyone.  You  didn't  think  I  was  afraid 
of  you,  did  you?"  he  added,  in  sudden  bluster. 
"I've  got  nothing  to  hide!" 

"I'm  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  Mr.  Apple- 
ton,"^  returned  the  detective.  "Perhaps,  in  that 
case,  you'll  tell  me  a  few  things  I  want  to  know." 

"I  told  you  yesterday — "  the  young  man  began 
to  protest. 

But  Gaunt  cut  him  short. 

"I  want  to  know  some  of  the  things  you  did  not 
tell  me  yesterday.  But,  first  of  all,  I  want  to  re- 
turn this  to  you.'* 

He  held  out  the  little  gold  culF-link.  Yates 
Appleton  drew  back,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  out- 
stretched hand  of  the  other  in  a  sort  of  horror. 

"I — I  don't — "  he  began,  huskily.  "What  is 
it?    I  never  saw — " 

124 


IN  THE  WATCHES  OF  THE  NIGHT  125 

"Oh,  yes,  you  did,"  returned  the  detective. 
"It  is  your  gold  cuff-link,  which  you  lost  night 
before  last.  Don't  you  remember?  When  you 
reached  your  friend's  rooms,  Maurice  Livingston's, 
from  the  club,  he  lent  you  a  pair.  He  told  me  last 
night  that  he  had  done  so." 

"Why — yes,"  the  younger  man,  admitted,  in 
a  tone  of  relief.  "I  had  forgotten.  That  is  mine, 
of  course.  Where  was  it  found,  Mr.  Gaunt?  At 
the  club,  or  in  the  motor?" 

"In  neither  place."  The  detective's  tone  was 
grave  and  stern.  "It  was  found  on  the  floor  of 
the  den,  where  it  had  rolled  during  your  quarrel 
with  your  brother.  It  was  loosened,  probably, 
when  you  struck  him  that  blow  over  the  heart." 

There  was  a  tense  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then 
the  young  man,  with  a  shuddering  sob,  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands. 

"My  God!"  he  moaned.     "My  God!" 

"You  bribed  your  chauffeur:  why  didn't  you 
bribe  the  butler?"  persisted  Gaunt.  "You  should 
not  have  turned  on  him  last  night,  and  thrown 
him  out  of  3^our  rooms.  It  was  dangerous,  you 
see.  He  kn(^v/  too  much  of  what  had  gone  on  the 
night  before." 

"I  couldn't!  I  didn't  have  the  money,"  Yates 
Appleton  muttered.  "I  promised  the  chauffeur 
a  hundred  not  to  say  he'd  taken  me  home  from  the 
club;  but  that  cursed  Dakers  wanted  a  thousand 
down,  and  more  to  follow.     He'd  never  have  done 


126  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

bleeding  me,  and,  anyway,  I  didn't  think  he'd 
give  it  away  so  soon.  I  thought  he'd  wait  and  try 
again  to  get  money  out  of  me.  It's  all  true,  Mr. 
Gaunt!  I  did  go  home  and  quarrel  with  Garret, 
and — and  strike  him.  But  I  didn't  kill  him! 
i  swear  to  you,  I  didn't!  I  left  him  alive  and  as 
well  as  ever  he  was  in  his  life!'* 

"Then  suppose  you  tell  me  the  whole  truth," 
suggested  Gaunt.  "You  see,  I  know  all  about 
your  movements  that  night,  and  it's  going  to  look 
very  bad  for  you,  if  you  don't  tell  everything 
now,  frankly  and  honestly.'* 

"I  will,  Mr.  Gaunt!  I'm  only  too  glad  to,  and 
I  want  nothing  so  much  as  to  have  you  find  out 
who  killed  Garret!"  the  younger  man  returned, 
eagerly.  "Only,  I  don't  want  you  to  make  any 
mistake,  and  get  after  me.  I'm  innocent;  but 
I  know  things  look  pretty  black  against  me,  and 
men  have  been  convicted  on  circumstantial  evi- 
dence long  before  this.  There  was  bad  blood 
between  my  brother  and  me,  as  a  lot  of  people 
were  aware,  and,  although  the  chauffeur  knew 
I'd  gone  home  for  awhile,  about  midnight,  I  hadn't 
any  idea,  until  last  night,  that  the  butler  had  seen 
or  heard  me.  I  suppose  I  should  have  been  more 
politic  with  him;  but  I  was  unnerved  by— by 
everything  that  had  happened." 

"Just  what  did  happen,  night  before  last,  Mr. 
Appleton?" 
,    "Well,  you  know  of  the  lawsuit.     I  believe  my 


m  THE  WATCHES  OF  THE  NIGHT  127 

mother  told  you  that  it  was  just  a  test  case,  3 
friendly  suit.  It  wasn't,  entirely,  although  we 
stayed  on  in  the  house  until  the  renovating  of  ours 
was  completed,  to  save  talk  and  gossip.  There'd 
been  too  much  of  that,  already.  We've  been 
pretty  wild,  I  guess,  Garret  and  I;  but  you  can 
believe  I'm  going  to  be  a  different  man,  Mr. 
Gaunt!  This  terrible  thing  has  pulled  me  up 
short,  I  can  tell  you!  After  the  lawsuit  was  over, 
and  I'd  failed.  Garret  pulled  the  purse-strings 
tighter  than  ever,  and  wouldn't  help  me  out  with 
my  debts,  or  anything.  Night  before  last,  I  went* 
to  the  Patriarchs',  and  gambled,  and  lost  a  lot  of 
money.  I  gave  my  note  for  it,  of  course;  but, 
as  I  was  leaving,  I  overheard  a  remark  that  made 
me  determined  to  pay  up  what  I  had  lost,  right 
then  and  there.  I'd  been  drinking,  too,  and 
hitting  up  the — the  other  thing  that  you  discovered, 
and  I  was  wild — desperate!  I  went  home,  tackled 
my  brother  where  I  knew  he'd  be  by  himself,  drink- 
ing in  the  den,  and  tried  to  get  him  to  advance 
me  the  money.  I  might  as  well  have  tried  to  move 
a  rock!  He's  always  ugly  when  he's  drinking; 
but  that  night  he  was  worse  than  ever.  He  was  ^ 
highly  excited,  just  about  purple  with  rage,  in 
fact,  when  I  entered.  Something  must  have  hap- 
pened, before  I  came  in,  to  upset  him.  He  cursed 
and  reviled  me,  and  I — ^well,  I  told  you  I  was  pretty 
v/ell  wrought  up,  myself.  He  goaded  me  on  until 
I  struck  him.     Then  he  ordered  me  from  the  house, 


128  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

and,  after  a  minute,  I  went.  I  discovered,  after 
I  was  in  the  motor  again,  that  I'd  lost  my  cuff- 
link; but  I  borrowed  one  from  Maurice  Livingston. 
All  the  rest  of  the  night  you  know.  I  went  home 
again  when  I  got  ready.  My  brother  and  I'd  had 
rows  before,  although  we  hadn't  come  to  blows 
in  years,  and  I  knew  it  would  all  have  blown  over 
by  the  morning.  You  know  what  was  found  when 
morning  came.  I  don't  know  who  killed  my 
brother.  I  wish  to  heaven  I  did!  And  I  don't 
know  who  faked  up  that  burglary  stunt,  if  it  was 
really  faked  up.  But  I  know  I'm  innocent  of  any 
part  in  his  death!" 

"You  would  have  done  far  better  if  you  had  told 
me  all  this  frankly  yesterday,  Mr.  Appleton," 
Gaunt  remarked,  quietly,  "If  you  are  innocent, 
as  you  say,  there  is  one  person  who  believed  you 
guilty — ^your  mother!" 

"My  mother!'*  the  young  man  repeated,  aghast. 

"Flave  you  forgotten  what  she  said  when  she 
turned  from  the  body  of  your  brother  and  found 
you  standing  in  the  doorway?  She  called  you. 
Lam! 

"She  was  unnerved,  overwrought.  What  could 
be  expected  of  a  woman,  a  mother,  at  such  a  Hme? 
She  was  out  of  her  mind  with  the  shock  and  grief 
and  horror.  She  didn't  know  what  she  was  saying! 
She  had  known,  of  course,  that  there  wasn't  much 
love  lost  between  Garret  and  me.  She's  witnessed 
some  pretty  bad  quarrels  between  us,  and  just  for 


IN  THE  WATCHES  OP  THE  NIGHT  129 

a  minute  she  lost  her  senses,  and  accused  me.  She 
saw,  though,  almost  immediately,  how  unjust, 
how  impossible,  such  a  thing  could  be,  and  she 
sent  at  once  for  you,  to  find  out  the  truth  for 
us." 

"Well,  Mr.  Appleton,  the  evidence,  circumstan- 
tial as  it  is,  would  point,  at  this  stage  of  the  in- 
vestigation, directly  to  you  in  the  eyes  of  the 
officials,  the  police.  It  would  be  useless  for  me  to 
deny  that.  The  fact  that  you  bribed  one  ser- 
vant, and  would  have  bribed  another  had  it  been 
within  your  power  to  accede  to  his  requests,  to 
conceal  your  return  to  the  house,  to  the  room  in 
which  your  brother  was  afterward  found  murdered, 
would  look  very  bad  for  you,  from  Inspector  Han- 
rahan's  point  of  view.  However,  there  are  one 
or  two  points  in  your  favor,  which  he  might  oVer- 
look,  and  I  won't  put  the  evidence  I  have  ob- 
tained in  his  hands  just  yet.  But  you  must  give 
me  your  word  of  honor  not  to  leave  town,  not  to 
try  any  more  tricks  like  that  of  this  morning.  You 
must  be  where  I  can  reach  you  instantly  at  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  night;  for,  if  you  are  really  as 
anxious  as  you  say  you  are  to  discover  who  killed 
your  brother,  I  may  want  your  help." 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  can't  thank  you  enough, 
sir,  for  your  forbearance!"  Tears  of  weakness  and 
gratitude  rose  in  the  young  man's  eyes,  and  he 
brushed  them  away  with  a  trembling  hand.  "I'm 
sure  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  I  had  nothing 


130  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

to  do  with  Garret's  death;  but  I  might  have  a 
hard  time  proving  it  to  the  poUce,  and,  as  you  say, 
appearances  are  against  me.  Of  course,  I  want 
to  know  who  killed  my  brother;  but,  if  it  wasn't 
a  burglar,  and  you've  seemed  to  prove  that  it 
"wasn't,  isn't  there  a  chance  that  he  might  have 
committed  suicide?" 

*'In  that  case,  who  would  have  prepared  the 
burglary  evidence,  and  what  became  of  his  jewelry 
and  money?"  asked  Gaunt. 

The  other  was  silent. 
'  **No,  Mr.  Appleton,"  the  detective  remarked  con- 
clusively, "your  brother  was  murdered,  and  for 
a  motive  other  than  that  of  paltry  robbery.  We 
may  be  sure  of  that.  I  must  be  off  now.  You 
will  give  me  your  word  to  be  on  hand  when  I  need 
you  again?" 

"My  word  of  honor,  Mr.  Gaunt,  and  please 
believe  that  I  appreciate  what  you  have  done  for 
me.  You  might  have  had  me  placed  under  arrest, 
I  know,  on  the  evidence  you  have,  and,  although 
I  should  have  been  cleared,  of  course,  in  time,  1 
should  never  have  been  able  to  live  it  down,  and 
the  disgrace  and  notoriety  would  have  about 
killed  my  mother.  If  my  brother  did  not  commit 
suicide,  I'm  as  anxious  as  you,  and  more,  to  know 
who  killed  him." 

Gaunt  found  Saunders  waiting  faithfully  in  the 
liall,  and  went  swiftly  home,  for  a  quick  bite. 
It  was  after  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  he 


IN  THE  WATCHES  OF  THE  NIGHT  131 

still  had  much  to  do  that  day.  He  saw  to  it  that 
the  chauffeur,  too,  had  some  lunch,  and  imme- 
diately afterward  motored  to  the  Appletons'. 

The  butler  grew  pale  on  seeing  him;  but  the 
detective  brusquely  ignored  their  interview  of 
the  morning,  and  asked  to  see  Miss  Ellerslie. 

She  came  to  him  almost  at  once,  in  the  library. 
Her  low  voice  was  faint  and  quivering  with  anxiety, 
and  the  hand  she  extended  to  him  was  cold. 

"Your  sister,  Mrs.  Appleton?"  he  asked.  "1 
trust  that  she  is  better,  that  she  has  rallied  a  little 
from  the  shock  of  yesterday?" 

"On  the  contrary,  Mr.  Gaunt,  she  is  ill,  ver^ 
dangerously  ill."  She  seemed  scarcely  to  breathe 
the  words.  'i    r  ^ 

He  murmured  a  conventional  regret,  'scarcely 
knowing  the  words  he  uttered.  The  strange  spell 
her  mere  presence  had  exercised  over  him  on  the, 
previous  day,  seemed  intensified.  She  held  her^n. 
self  less  in  reserve,  as  if  her  anxiety  had  beaten, 
down  a  tithe  of  her  supreme  self-control. 

"Can  you  tell  me,"  he  added,  "about  how  soon 
Mrs.  Appleton  will  be  able  to  see  me?  I'll  promise 
faithfully  not  to  shock  her,  or  annoy  her.  It  is 
something  entirely  impersonal  about  which  I  wish 
to  consult  her." 

"Not  for  many  days.  She  is  so  ill  that  perhaps 
her  very  life  is  in  danger — perhaps  her  reason. 
The  doctor  is  with  her  now,  and  has  called  in  4; 
specialist." 


132  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"I  did  not  realize  it  was  as  serious  as  that. 
Believe  me,  Miss  Ellerslie,  I  am  deeply  sorry  for 
her,  and  for  you,  too,  in  your  anxiety.  May  I 
ask  you  just  a  few  questions?  I  won't  keep  you 
long  from  your  sister." 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Gaunt."  But,  as  she  spoke, 
he  heard  a  slight  tinkling,  drumming  sound.  She 
had  reached  over  unconsciously,  and  picked  up  one 
of  the  small  silver  or  bronze  ornaments  from  the 
writing-table,  and  was  playing  with  it  idly  between 
her  trembling  fingers. 

"Miss  Ellerslie,  you  said  yesterday  that,  when 
you  returned  from  the  wedding  the  night  before, 
your  old  nurse.  Mammy  Lu,  told  you  that  your 
sister  was  awake  and  nervous,  and  you  went  in 
just  as  you  were,  in  the  costume  you  had  worn  at 
the  wedding  reception,  and  remained  with  her 
until  she  was  quiet." 

The  tinkling  rattle  stopped  suddenly. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  did." 

"You  did  not,  before  you  went  up-stairs  and 
encountered  the  maid,  go  near  the  den?" 

"No." 

"And,  after  your  sister  was  quiet,  did  you  go 
immediately  to  your  room  and  retire,  op  did  you 
descend  to  the  room  where  your  brother-in-law 
was?" 

There  was  a  sudden,  loud  snap.  The  paper- 
knife,  which  Miss  Ellerslie  had  held,  had  broken 
in  two  in  her  sudden,  convulsive  grasp.     She  laid 


IN  THE  WATCHES  OP  THE  NIGHT  133 

the  pieces  mechanically  on  the  table  before  she 
answered  quietly: 

"I  went  directly  to  my  room,  and  retired." 

"Directly  after  leaving  your  sister,  you  mean?" 

*' Directly  after  leaving  my  sister."  Her  voice 
had  lost  the  low,  thrilling  timbre,  and  held  the 
curious,  sad,  controlled  note  of  the  previous  day. 

"And  the  next  thing  you  heard  was  the  house- 
maid's screams,  when  she  went  to  the  den,  the  fol* 
lowing  morning?" 

"That  is  so,  Mr.  Gaunt." 
i'    "Yet  you  did  not  sleep  well;   you  were,  m  fact, 
awake  most  of  the  night,  were  you  not?" 

"Why — I  think  not;  I  am  not  sure.  I  am 
usually  a  light  sleeper,  and  I  was  worried  by  my 
sister's  nervous  condition;  but  I  believe  that  I 
slept  rather  well." 

"Marie,  the  maid  of  the  elder  Mrs.  Appleton, 
heard  you  walking  the  floor  a  great  deal  during 
the  night.  Her  room  is  directly  above  yours, 
you  knov^." 

I.  There  was  a  slight  pause,  and  then  the  girl's 
voice  sounded  upon  his  ear  with  its  natural  soft 
drawl  intensified,  almost  as  if  with  studied  effect: 

"Did  she?  She  must  have  exaggerated — she  is 
very  excitable.  I  occasionally  pace  up  and  down 
the  floor  of  my  room,  when  sleep  will  not  come  to 
-  me;  but  I  fancy  I  did  so  no  more  on  the  night 
before  last  than  at  any  other  time — I  am  subject 
to  insomnia." 


134  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"When  you  entered  the  house,  Miss  Ellerslle, 
on  your  return  from  the  wedding,  did  you  hear  any 
sound  from  the  direction  of  the  den?  A  sound, 
for  instance,  of  two  voices — men's  voices — raised 
in  an  altercation?" 

"Oh,  no!"  The  genuine  surprise  in  her  voice 
made  it  rise  a  tone  or  two  with  the  thrilHng  sweet- 
ness of  a  bird's  note.  "There  was  no  sound 
whatever." 

"Was  there  no  light  on  the  lower  floor?'* 

"Only  the  hall  light,  which  is  always  left  burn- 
ing all  night,  until  the  maids  or  butler  come  down 
in  the  morning,  and  a  faint  radiance,  which  seemed 
to  come  from  the  direction  of  the  den,  quite  as  if 
my  brother-in-law  was  sitting  in  there  as  usual, 
and  the  door  was  open — the  door  of  the  den,  I 
mean." 

Gaunt  pondered  a  moment.  The  housemaid, 
Katie,  had  stated  to  him  on  the  previous  day 
that,  when  she  entered  the  den  in  the  early  morn- 
ing and  found  a  cufF-link,  and  later  the  body  of  her 
master,  there  had  been  no  light  whatever  in  the 
den,  save  that  from  the  one  opened  window. 
Whoever,  then,  had  changed  the  appearance  of 
the  room  after  the  tragedy,  had  put  out  the  light. 

"And  during  the  night  you  heard  no  sound 
whatever,  Miss  Ellerslie?  Forgive  me  for  rc^ 
peating  my  questions  to  you,  but  I  am  trying  to 
recall  any  sound  which  may  have  reached  your 
ears  during  your  wakeful   hours,   but  which   you 


IN  THE  WATCHES  OF  THE  NIGHT  135 

dismissed    from    your   thoughts   as    of   no    signifi- 
cance." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  she 
answered  with  the  air  of  finahty: 

"No,  Mr.  Gaunt;  not  the  sHghtest  sound  what- 
ever. 

*'Very  well.  Miss  Ellerslie.  I  won't  keep  you 
from  your  sister  any  longer.  My  chauffeur  is 
waiting  in  the  vestibule." 

But  even  as  she  opened  the  library-door,  Dakers 
appeared  upon  the  threshold. 

"Mr.    Force   and    Mr.    Witherspoon    are   in    the 
drawing-room.  Miss  Ellerslie.     They  wish  to  know 
if  they  can  see  you  for  a  moment." 
,.    After  a  slight,  but  obvious,  hesitation,  the  girl  said : 

"Yes,  Dakers,  tell  them  I  will  come  at  once." 
Then,  as  the  butler  disappeared  down  the  hall, 
she  turned  again  to  the  detective.  "Mr.  Gaunt, 
I  told  you  yesterday  of  my  engagement  to  Mr. 
Randolph  Force,  and  that  I  meant  to  break  that 
engagement,  and  remain  with  my  sister.  I  have 
reconsidered."  Then,  with  a  little  smile:  "That 
is  supposed  to  be  a  woman's  prerogative,  isn't  it? 
I  m.ean  that  I  shall  stay  with  my  sister,  but  permit 
the  engagement  to  go  on,  for  a  time  at  least.  I 
trust  that  you  will  hold  what  I  told  you  yesterday 
in  the  strictest  confidence." 

"Certainly,  Miss  Ellerslie.  I  wonder  if  Mr. 
Force  would  call  on  me  this  evening,  in  my  rooms? 
I  will  perhaps  be  able  to  obtain  from  him  some 


136  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

data  concerning  the  Appleton  family  which  others 
have  been  unable  to  give  me.  It  was  for  this 
reason  I  wished  an  interview  with  your  sister." 

**I  can  tell  you  all  you  wish  to  know  about  the 
Appleton  family,  Mr.  Gaunt;  as  much  as  my  sister 
or  Mr.  Force  could."  There  was  an  unconscious 
note  of  anxiety  in  her  voice. 

**No;  the  data  I  wish  go  further  back  into  his- 
tory, things  that  only  an  old  New  Yorker  and 
contemporary  of  theirs,  a  man  of  their  set,  could 
tell  me."  His  voice  was  very  gentle,  but  there 
was  a  graver  note  in  it,  almost  a  command,  as 
he  added:  "Please,  tell  Mr.  Force  I  will  be  at  home 
at  nine." 

She  sighed  a  little,  and  her  voice,  as  she  replied, 
was  so  low  as  to  be  almost  inaudible.  "I  will  tell 
him,  Mr.  Gaunt." 

!  "Thank  you.  May  I  trouble  you  with  one 
more  question — this  time  an  irrelevant  one?  Why 
is  your  hair  all  wet  about  your  forehead?" 

"My  hair?"  she  repeated  in  surprise,  putting  her 
hands  quickly  to  her  head.  Her  hair  was  lying 
in  flat,  damp  tendrils  about  her  face.  "Oh,  yes! 
They — they  were  bathing  my  forehead." 

"Ah!   You,  too,  were— ill.  Miss  Ellerslie?" 

**I — I  fainted,  just  a  few  minutes  before  you 
came,"  she  confessed.  "It  was  silly  of  me,  of 
course.  I  don't  remember  ever  having  done  such 
a  thing  before.  I  have  been  quite  unnerved  by 
my  anxiety  over  my  sister." 


IN  THE  WATCHES  OF  THE  NIGHT  137 

**I  understand,  I  am  deeply  sorry  for  you 
both." 

As  they  moved  away  from  the  Hbrary  door 
together,  she  asked,  in  a  strange  tone,  as  if  some- 
?  thing  impelled  her  to  voice  the  question,  quite 
without  her  own  volition: 

"Mr.  Gaunt,  how — -how  did  you  know  my  hair 
was  wet  ? " 

**0h,  that?"  he  smiled.  "There  is  a  peculiar 
odor  about  moistened  hair,  which  is  distinctly 
noticeable,  and  like  nothing  else  in  the  world. 
Good-afternoon,  Miss  Ellerslie." 


CHAPTER  IX 

DORIS 

ON  leaving  the  Appleton  house,  Gaunt's  car 
sped  swiftly  to  the  Blenheim,  where  Mrs. 
Finlay  Appleton  had  taken  up  her  abode. 

"Have  you  any  news  for  me,  Mr.  Gaunt?  "  she 
inquired  anxiously,  when  he  was  admitted  to  her 
presence.  "  This  strain  is  terrible.  I  would  wel- 
come almost  any  news,  if  it  was  news." 

"We  have  succeeded  in  ehminating  a  number 
of  irrelevant  facts,  Mrs.  Appleton;  but  you  must 
be  patient.  There  is  much  work  ahead  for  us, 
until  we  can  see  clearly  to  the  end.  I  have  come 
to  ask  if  I  may  have  a  few  moments'  interview  with 
your  maid,  Marie." 

"With  my  maid?"  Mrs.  Appleton's  tone  was 
loftily  amazed.  "I  cannot  see  what  evidence  my 
maid  would  be  able  to  give,  Mr.  Gaunt,  aside  from 
the  chatter  of  the  servants'  hall — idle  gossip  of  which 
there  has  been  far  too  much  already." 

Mr.  Gaunt  smiled  deprecatingly,  and  said  in  the 
tone  he  could  so  well  assume  on  occasion : 

"Well,  we  must  leave  no  stone  unturned,  you 
know,  and  there  is  often  much  that  goes  on  in  a 
household  of  which  sharp-eyed  servants  are  cog- 
nizant, when  the  mistress  is  not."    Mrs.   Appl&- 

138 


DORIS  139 

on  cleared  her  throat  in  a  manner  which  indicated 

•:hat,    although    this    might    be    the   case   in    some 

is,  it  was  not  true  of  one  over  which  she 

but  the  detective's  next  question  changed 

iier   thoughts   suddenly   into   a  new   and   alarmmg 

channel. 

"Mrs.  Appleton,  I  do  not  like  to  distress  you  by 
a  reference  to  the  painful  scene  of  yesterday  morn- 
ing, but  believe  me,  it  is  necessary.  When  you 
rushed  down-stairs  in  response  to  the  screams  of 
your  housemaid,  and  discovered  the  body  of  your 
eldest  son,  Mr.  Yates  Appleton,  I  understand, 
was  not  present.  When  he  appeared  in  the  door- 
way, you  turned  and  spoke  to  him.  Do  you  re- 
member what  you  said?" 

"H-m!"  the  elderly  lady  hesitated.  Then  she 
replied  in  obvious  haste:  "No,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  do 
not.  I  do  not  even  remember  I  noticed  him 
there.  At  any  rate,  what  does  it  matter?  What 
could  it  matter  what  a  woman  said  at  such  a 
time  ? " 

"It  matters  a  great  deal,"  the  detective  replied, 
quietly.     "It  was  most  significant." 

"I  do  not  remember  what  it  was,"  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton  reiterated,  quickly.  "It  could  not  have  been 
significant,  for  it  was  said  unconsciously.  I  was 
beside  myself." 

"You  called  your  son,  *Cain!*  That,  Mrs. 
Appleton,  is  the  name  of  the  oldest  fratricide  on 
record.     You  are  a  woman,  if  you  will  pardon  me 


140  AT  ONE-THIRTY  -^ 


-% 


of  very  superior  mentality.     You  say,  or  do,  noth-  ^  . 
ing    without    reason.     When    you    branded    your  ^ 
son  with  that  name,  you  considered  him  the  mur- 
derer of  his  brother." 

"Ah,  no,  no,  Mr.  Gaunt!  You  exceed  the  power 
I  myself  have  vested  in  you,  in  this  case.  The 
application  was  not  a  hteral  one,  but  a  reproach 
for  the  words  my  son  had  uttered  to  his  elder 
brother  in  a  late  quarrel.  I  see  that  I  must  tell 
you,  in  order  to  avert  a  terrible  mistake  on  your 
part.  My  sons  were  the  most  loving  of  brothers.'* 
The  detective's  face  was  a  study.  **But  Garret 
was  the  more  prudent  of  the  two;  Yates  the 
spendthrift.  They  were  both  of  violent  temper, 
and  their  frequent  quarrels  would  have  sounded 
quite  fearful  to  those  who  did  not  know  that  they 
meant  not  a  word  of  it,  and  that  the  whole  matter 
would  be  forgotten  in  an  hour  or  two. 

"Their  quarrels,  of  course,  were  only  about 
money.  During  a  recent  one — very  recent — Yates 
told  Garret  he  wished  he  was  dead.  It  was  in 
reference  to  that,  if  anything,  that  I  used  the 
word  'Cain,'  if  I  did  so.  I  don't  remember  it, 
as  I  say;  but  I  do  know  that  the  memory  of  that 
quarrel  returned  to  me,  when  I  turned  from  my 
dead  to  my  living  son.  Had  such  a  preposterous 
suspicion  as  that  which  you  surmise  entered  my 
head,  do  you  not  think  that  I  would  have  shielded 
my  son  all  that  I  possibly  could  from  the  con- 
sequences of  his  act — if  not  for  his  own  sake,  at 


DORIS  141 

least,  to  save  the  family  name  from  disgrace  ^ 
Yet,  I  sent  at  once  for  the  police,  and  for  the  high- 
est authority  on  the  detection  of  crime  in  this 
country — for  you,  Mr.  Gaunt." 

He  accepted  the  comphment  gravely,  and  said: 

"Will  you  tell  me  then,  Mrs.  Appleton,  why, 
after  having  retained  me  to  discover  the  truth  for 
you,  you  were  not  entirely  frank  with  me?" 

She  half-rose  from  the  chair. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Gaunt — "  she  began  indignantly. 

But  he  silenced  her. 

"You  told  me  that  the  whole  suit  between  your 
two  sons  was  a  test  case,  an  entirely  amicable 
affair;  yet  Mr.  Yates  Appleton  has  told  me  it  was 
not  so.  He  has  admitted,  to  use  his  own  words: 
'That  there  was  bad  blood  between  him  and  his 
elder  brother.'" 

The  lady  bit  her  lip,  and  then  said,  more  ve- 
hemently than  she  had  spoken; 

"But  can  you  not  see,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  knew  that 
the  differences  between  my  sons  were  absolutely 
irrelevant  to  this  case,  as  I  informed  you  during 
our  first  interview?  I  do  not  see  any  further  need 
of  talk  and  raking  up  of  scandal." 

"That  is  all,  Mrs.  Appleton.  May  I  see  your 
maid  now?" 

I^f  "Yes.  If  you  will  step  into  my  dressing-room 
you  will  find  her — the  door  there,  just  at  the  right 
of  your  chair." 

With  a  bow,  he  entered  the  next  room,  closing 


142  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

the  door  gently,  but  decisively,  behind  him,  and 
heard  the  rattle  of  spools  and  scissors,  as  the  maid 
rose  hastily  at  his  unexpected  entrance. 

"M'jzVm  Gaunt!" 
,  "Marie,   I   want   a  word  with   you.     To  whom 
did  you  telephone  the  news  of  the  murder,  imme- 
diately after  it  was  discovered,  this  morning?" 

"I,  m'sieu^  To  no  one.  Why  should  msieu 
think  that  I — " 

"You  were  overheard  telephoning  the  news  of 
the  death  of  Mr.  Garret  Appleton  to  some  one. 
Who  was  it?" 

"If  msieu  does  not  jest,  someone  has  been  tell- 
ing him  an  untruth.  I  have  telephone'  to  no 
one. 

"I  suppose  you  know,  Marie,  that  the  Central 
Exchange  can  be  compelled  on  a  court  order  to  give 
the  number  which  you  called  on  the  'phone  at  that 
hour.  Of  course,  if  you  wish  me  to  carry  the  mat- 
ter to  Mrs.  Appleton,  or  Judge  Carhart — " 

"Ah,  in  that  case,"  the  maid  interrupted,  with 
superb  insolence,  "if  m*sieu  knows  the  number  I 
called,  why  does  he  question  me?" 

"You  called  Miss  Carhart,  to  warn  her  in  advance 
of  the  death — of  the  murder — of  Mr.  Garret  Apple- 
ton.  You  thought  she  would  wish  to  know  pri- 
vately before  the  news  reached  her  house.  Why 
did  you  think  she  would  wish  to  know?" 

"Well,  Mademoiselle  Carhart  is  vairy  young 
and  a  great  friend  of  the  family.     She  had  dined 


DOEIS  143" 

there  only  the  night  before,   and  I  thought  that 
the  shock — " 

"No,  Marie,  I  want  the  truth.  You  are  in  Mrs. 
Appleton's  employ,  not  Miss  Carhart's.  Why 
should  you  telephone  this  news  to  her  privately?" 

The  maid  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  a  gesture 
of  surrender, 

"M'sieUy  if  you  must  know,  there  had  been  a 
leetle  affaire — how  do  you  say? — a  flirtation.  Oh, 
of  an  innocence  absolutely,  between  M^niselle  Car- 
hart  and  M'sieu  Appleton.  M'sieu  had  confidea 
in  me.  I  had  carried  a  note — a  leetle  lettair,  once 
or  twice;  but  it  was  nothing — nothing  to  which 
anyone  could  object.  But  I — I  imagine  that 
mademoiselle  had  become  so  greatly  interested  in 
m'sieu  that,  if  the  sudden  news  of  his  death  came 
to  her  in  the  presence  of  her  father,  she  might — 
might  pairhaps  give  herself  away.  I  hke  the 
young  mademoiselle,  so  jolie,  so  ingenious,  and  I 
am  romantic — me." 

"And  you  were  well  paid,  I  suppose,  for  carrying 
these  notes,  eh  ? " 

"But  yes."  The  maid's  tone  suggested  sur- 
prise at  the  superfluous  question.  "Both  M'sieu 
Appleton  and  Mademoiselle  Carhart  were  most  gen- 
erous," 

"And  that  was  all;  just  that  Mr.  Garret  Apple- 
ton  permitted  you  to  know  of — his  flirtation?  And 
you  carried  notes  once  or  twice.  You  saw  nothing 
at  any  time,  in  the  Appleton  home,  or  elsewhere, 


144  AT  ONE-THIETT 

between  these  two;  no  confidential  meetings — 
in  the  den,  say,  or  elsewhere?" 

"Oh,  but  yes,  m'sieu,  I  have  eyes.  Once  or 
twice,  when  there  was  a  large  reception,  or  dinner, 
or  dance,  on  at  the  house  of  M'sieu  Appleton,  they 
would  slip  away  for  a  little  talk  of  but  a  minute 
or  two  in  the  hall,  or  library,  or — or  den." 

"Marie,  did  you  see  them  in  the  den  on  the  night 
of  the  murder?" 

*'The  evening  before,  after  dinner,  m'sieu  means? 
It  is  possible.  After  Madame  Appleton — Madame 
Garret  Appleton — had  retired,  I  passed  along  the 
hall  from  the  staircase  leading  from  the  servant's 
dining-room  up  to  Madame  Appleton's,  my  mis- 
tress's, to  prepare  her  things  for  the  night.  I 
pass  the  door  of  the  den,  and  I  see  then  M'sieu 
Appleton  and  a  lady.  I  did  not  turn  and  look 
in,  I  glanc'  with  the  corner  of  my  eye,  and  I  could 
not  see  who  the  lady  was,  but  I  think  it  was  Made^ 
moiselle  Carhart." 

"Very  well,  Marie.  That  was  all  I  wanted  of 
you.  Only,  if  Inspector  Hanrahan  comes  to  you, 
do  not  lie  to  him.  You  might  find  yourself  in  seri- 
ous trouble." 

As  the  maid  turned,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  to  show 
him  to  the  door,  he  stopped. 

"Why  do  you  sew  without  a  thimble?"  he  asked, 
with  the  whimsical  smile  that  always  accompanied 
his  sudden,  irrelevant  questions.  "You  are  proud 
of  your  hands,  yet  you  permit  the  middle  finger  to 


DOEIS  145 

become  all  roughened  and  abrased,  from  the  needle- 
head." 

"  I  cannot  sew  wiz  ze  theemble.  Eet  ees  what 
you  call — eccentricitee,  pairhaps?  But  how, 
m'sieu — " 

"I  heard  the  rough  skin  of  your  finger  rasp 
against  your  starched  apron,  as  you  turned,  just 
now.  And  I  knew  you  were  proud  of  your  hands, 
because  you  keep  your  nails  so  unusually  long 
and  pointed." 

With  a  little  cry  of  dismay,  the  woman  thrust 
both  her  hands  behind  her. 

"If  m'sieu  will  pardon — but  when  did  rnsieu 
discover  zat?" 

"  Yesterday,  when  you  came  to  the  library  of 
the  Appleton  house,  at  the  time  I  sent  for  you 
for  an  interview,  and  you  tapped  upon  the  door 
before  entering.  ...  I  must  go  now.  Remember 
what  I  have  told  you.  Speak  the  truth  to  Inspector 
Hanrahan  when  he  comes,  or  you  may  have  cause 
for  regret." 

He  took  leave  of  Mrs.  Appleton,  and,  with  the 
aid  of  a  bell-boy,  made  his  way  to  his  car.  There 
was  one  errand  yet  before  him,  and  one  which  he 
anticipated  with  reluctance,  persuaded  as  he  was 
in  his  own  mind  that  the  affair  between  Garret 
Appleton  and  the  Judge's  daughter  had  been 
innocent  of  what  the  world  regards  as  the  one 
unpardonable  wrong,  in  whatever  despicable  light 
it  might  be  considered  otherwise.     He  felt  he  must 


146  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

get  at  the  truth  of  the  matter,  and  that  from  the 
girl  herself. 

On  arrival  at  the  Carharts',  he  was  shown  to  the 
drawing-room,  and  she  came  to  him  almost  imme- 
diately. Her  uneasiness  at  his  visit  was  plainly 
evidenced  in  her  voice,  as  she  greeted  him. 

"Miss  Carhart,"  he  said  very  gravely,  "did  you 
acquaint  your  father  at  once,  yesterday  morning, 
of  the  death  of  Mr.  Garret  Appleton?" 

"My  father.?"  she  faltered.  "Why,  it  was  he 
who  told  me.     The  news  was  brought  to  him." 

The  detective  shook  his  head. 

"I  mean,  when  Marie,  Mrs.  Appleton's  maid, 
telephoned  you." 

"Telephoned  me.?  Marie  telephoned  me?"  Her 
voice  was  scarcely  above  a  whisper,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  she  could  do  no  more  than  echo  his  words. 

l"Miss  Carhart,"  he  went  on,  "whatever  you  say 
to  me,  if  you  are  perfectly  frank,  will  be  strictly 
confidential;  but  if  you  do  not  disclose  the  whole 
truth,  I  may  be  compelled  to  carry  the  matter  to 
your  father.  I  must  know  the  exact  relations 
which  existed  between  you  and  Garret  Appleton." 

The  girl  rose  to  her  feet  indignantly. 

"How  dare  you!"  she  cried.  "What  do  you 
mean  to  insinuate?  My  father  would  be  the  first 
to  order  you  from  this  house,  if  you  dared  to 
approach  him  with  any  story  which  reflected  upon 
my  reputation." 

"Nevertheless,"  he  went  on  doggedly,  "I  know. 


DORIS  147 

and  can  prove,  that  an  affair  of  some  sort  existed 
between  you  and  the  man  whose  death  I  am 
investigating.  I  know  that  Marie,  his  mother's 
maid,  frequently  carried  messages  from  him  to 
you;  that  she  knew,  and  admits  the  knowledge, 
of  an  affair  between  you,  and  that  she  will  so 
testify,  if  necessary,  and  that  she  telephoned  you 
privately  of  his  death,  in  order  that  you  might 
not  betray  your  shock  to  your  father,  when  the 
news  reached  you  officially." 

The  girl,  who  had  seated  herself,  clasped  and 
unclasped  the  arms  of  her  chair  nervously,  and 
beat  a  little  angry  tattoo  with  her  foot  upon  the 
floor. 

"If  you  must  know,  Mr.  Gaunt,"  she  said  at 
last,  with  a  little,  quick  intake  of  breath,  "I  did 
have  a  sort  of  flirtation  with  Garret  Appleton; 
but  it  was  an  entirely  innocent  affair,  the  same 
sort  of  thing  that  goes  on  every  day  in  societ}'-. 
We  had  been  engaged  at  one  time,  and  it  was  only 
natural  that  I  should  want  to — to  pique  his  wife, 
and  punish  him  for  his  defection.  I  hadn't  married, 
because  I  never  found  any  one  whom  I — liked, 
as  I  had  liked  Garret,  and  I  did  not  think  he  should 
have  married,  either.  I  knew  that  he  and  his 
wife  weren't  happy,  weren't  getting  along  to- 
gether, and  I  flirted  with  him  a  little,  deliberately; 
but  I  never  saw  him  alone,  nor  was  indiscreet  in 
any  possible  way.  Don't  you  understand,  Mr. 
Gaunt?     It  was  only  to  punish  him." 


148  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"You  did  see  him  alone.  Marie  has  come  upon 
you  often  in  his  own  house,  talking  very  con- 
fidentially." 

"But  that  was  only  when  an  affair  was  on  at  his 
house,  at  which  all  our  set  were  present.  He  might 
have  talked  as  frequently,  and  said  the  same 
things,  to  any  other  young  girl  of  his  mother's  or 
wife's  acquaintance." 

"When  was  the  last  time  you  saw  him  alone, 
Miss  Carhart?" 

"Really,  I — I  don't  remember." 

"Was  it  the  night  before  his  death,  Miss  Car- 
hart?" 

"Oh,  naturally,  if  you  call  that  seeing  him  alone. 
After  his  wife  had  retired,  we  stayed  in  the  library, 
talking,  where  my  father  and  Mrs.  Finlay  Apple- 
ton  were  playing  cards,  and  then — yes,  we  did 
drift  into  the  music-room,  which  opens  from  the 
library,  and  I  played  a  little,  I  think." 

"And  that  was  all?  You  did  not  enter  the  den. 
Miss  Carhart?" 

"No,  Mr.  Gaunt." 

The  detective  rose. 

"Miss  Carhart,  you  will  recall  what  I  said  to 
you  at  the  commencement  of  this  interview?  If 
you  are  not  absolutely  frank  with  me,  I  must  go 
to  your  father.  Will  you  tell  me  if  he  is  at 
home?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean!  I  am  absolutely 
frank  with  you." 


DORIS  149 

"You  were  in  the  den  alone  with  Mr.  Apple- 
ton,  the  night  before  his  death.  You  were  seen 
there." 

"I — ^was  seen  there?" 

"I  will  be  more  frank  than  you  have  been.  After 
'  Mrs.  Garret  Appleton  had  retired,  Marie  passed 
along  the  hall  before  the  half-open  door  of  the  den, 
and  saw  you  there  with  Mr.  Appleton." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  the  girl  said,  with 
a  Httle  break  in  her  voice: 

"I  see  there  is  no  use  attempting  to  withhold 
anything  from  you,  Mr.  Gaunt.  I  only  attempted 
to  do  so  because  I  wanted  you  to  be  sure  in  your 
own  mind  of  the  truth — that  my  flirtation  with 
Mr.  Appleton  was  only  that,  and  nothing  more. 
I  was  in  the  den  with  Mr.  Appleton.  He  took 
me  in  there  ostensibly  to  show  me  some  neW  curios 
he  had  recently  purchased,  but  he  really  wanted 
to  talk  to  me  alone.  You  see,  he  had  taken  our 
little  flirtation  more  seriously  than  I. 

"My  father  had  planned  to  take  me  abroad 
next  week  for  the  winter,  and  he  was  quite  broken 
up  about  it.  I  was  really  sorry  that  I  had  ever 
;  started  to  play  this  rather  cruel  little — ^joke  on 
him  when  I  realized  now  how  badly  he  felt,  and  I 
was  a  little  frightened,  too;  so  I  cut  our  conversa- 
sion  short,  and  returned  to  the  library,  where  my 
father  was.  That  is  all,  Mr.  Gaunt — really,  really 
all!  And  now  that  this — this  terrible  thing  has 
come,  I  feel  so  difi'erently  about  it  all — so  deeply 


150  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

sorry  that  I  have  caused  Mrs.  Garret  Apple- 
ton  any  pain — so  sorry  that  I — I  played  with 
fire!" 

"I  am  glad  that  you  have  been  frank  with  me. 
Miss  Carhart.  I  believe  that  you  have  been; 
but  I  must  know  a  little  more.  In  that  inter- 
view with  him  in  the  den,  did  Mr.  Appleton  make 
any  violent  demonstration  of  affection  toward  you, 
any  suggestions  or  proposals  for  the  future?" 

"No,  not  exactly,"  the  girl  returned,  hesitatingly. 
"He  was  very  much  wrought-up  and  excited, 
and  didn't  seem  to  be  quite — quite  himself.  He 
said  that  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  my 
departure  for  Europe — of  my  being  where  he  could 
not  see  me  sometimes;  and,  when  he  saw  how  aghast 
I  was  that  things  had  drifted  so  far  between  us  in 
his  estimation,  he  accused  me  of  flirting  with 
him,  of  wilfully  leading  him  on,  which  was  just — 
just  what  I  had  been  doing,  Mr.  Gaunt,  only 
I — it  sounded  so  awful,  put  into  words. 

"I  was  very  indignant,  and  told  him  so.  I — I 
reminded  him  of  the  respect  due  to  the  woman 
up-stairs.  Oh,  I  said  all  the  hypocritical  things 
that  a  girl  usually  says  when  she  had  been  play- 
ing with  a  man,  and  gets  found  out,  and  then  I 
cut  out  the  conversation  short,  and  went  back  to 
the  library." 

"And  he  came  with  you.^" 

"Yes;  but  he  was  sullen,  and  in  an  injured  mood, 
af  course,  although  he  quelled  it  before  my  father. 


DORIS  151 

Nevertheless,  I  felt  uncomfortable,  and  I  was  glad 
when  the  time  came  for  us  to  go  home." 

"And  you  heard  nothing  further?" 

"Nothing  until  Marie  called  me  up,  and  told 
me  of — of  his  death." 

"Miss  Carhart,  did  you  know  of  any  enemies — 
any  active  enemies — whom  Mr.  Appleton  may  have 
had  ^  Did  he  ever  tell  you  of  any  difficulty  he  was 
in,  or  trouble?" 

"No;  he  only  spoke,  in  a  general  way,  of  his 
unhappiness  at  home — the  sort  of  thing  a  married 
man  always  says  when  he  wants  sympathy — that 
he  isn't  understood." 

"That  is  all,  Miss  Carhart.  I  won't  trouble 
you  any  longer." 

He  turned  toward  the  door;  but  she  laid  a  small, 
detaining  hand  on  his  arm. 

"I  know  that  you  think  I  am  horrid,  Mr.  Gaunt; 
that  I  don't  deserve  any— respect,  or  anything. 
But  it  was  only  a  petty  malicious  impulse — my 
flirting  with  him,  I  mean,  and  I  yielded  to  it.  If 
you  could  know  how  sorry  I  am!" 

The  detective  smiled  a  little. 

"We  all  do  things  which  we  are  sorry  for,  at 
one  time,  or  another.  Miss  Carhart,  and  it  is  past. 
You  may  be  sure  that  your  confidence  will  be 
respected.     Good-afternoon." 

His  thoughts  on  the  way  home  were  far  from 
satisfied  ones.  If  Yates  Appleton  was  not  guilty 
of  his   brother's    death,    his    investigation    seemed 


152  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

to  have  made  little  or  no  headway.  He  had,  to 
be  sure,  cleared  up  a  number  of  false  clues;  but 
they  had  been  fairly  obvious  from  the  start,  and 
he  seemed  to  be  working  in  circles,  wasting  valuable 
time,  and  getting  no  nearer  the  real  truth.  Could 
it  be  that  another  line  of  investigation  lay  open 
to  him,  which  he  had  almost  wilfully  overlooked 
for  the  multipHcity  of  clues  that  lay  more  readily 
within  reach?  Had  he,  because  of  his  blindness, 
missed  some  essential  detail,  failed  to  discover 
some  salient  point,  some  significant  finger-post, 
which,  to  his  trained  faculties,  would  have  pointed 
unmistakably  to  the  truth?  He  writhed  in  spirit. 
Why  had  fate  endowed  him  with  the  abihties, 
the  genius,  which  he  possessed,  and  denied  to  him 
the  greatest  of  all  attributes  in  the  life-work  which 
he  had  chosen? 


CHAPTER  X 

A    NEW   TURNING 

WHEN  Gaunt  reached  his  rooms,  he  found 
Inspector  Hanrahan  impatiently  pacing 
the  floor  of  his  library. 

"Thought  you  would  never  come,  Mr.  Gaunt," 
he  said.  "I  have  been  waiting  for  you  nearly  an 
hour.     Have  you  come  upon  anything?" 

*' Running  down  a  lot  of  false  clues;  clearing  out 
the  underbrush,  that's  about  all."  Gaunt  could  not 
quite  keep  the  bitterness  he  felt  from  manifesting 
itself  in  his  voice. 

"Ah-ha!  Well,  I've  come  on  something  we've 
never  even  thought  of  looking  into.  We've  taken 
the  case  up  from  the  time  of  the  murder,  or  at  least 
the  evening  before.  But  how  about  the  day  before, 
Mr.  Gaunt?  Did  it  occur  to  you  to  find  out  how 
Garret  Appleton  spent  the  last  day  of  his  life?" 

The  detective  concealed  his  chagrin  with  an 
effort.  Could  this  be  the  line  of  investigation 
that  he  had  overlooked,  not  because  of  his  blind- 
ness, but  because  of  a  crass  stupidity  of  reasoning 
which  was  plainly  unaccountable. 

"Can't  say  that  it  did.  Inspector.  I  have  been 
too  busy  following  up  the  clues  we  already  had." 

"Well!"     The  Inspector  settled  back  in  a  chair 

153 


154  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

with  immense  satisfaction.  "When  I'd  run  that 
Louis  Lantelme  business  to  earth,  and  found  there 
was  nothing  in  it,  there  didn't  seem  a  single  thing 
left  to  go  on;  so  I  thought  I'd  cast  backward  a 
little.  In  the  first  place — I  got  this  from  Louis — 
for  the  last  two  or  three  months  Mr.  Appleton  has 
had  something  on  his  mind — something  besides 
his  family  troubles,  and  all  that,  I  mean.  He 
kept  it  pretty  much  to  himself;  but  his  man  knew 
it — trust  a  valet,  or  a  lady's  maid,  to  know  as  much 
about  the  people  they  work  for  as  they  know  about 
themselves. 

"As  far  as  Louis  could  make  out,  it  started  with 
an  article  his  master  read  in  the  newspaper  about 
three  months  ago.  He  seemed  very  much  excited, 
and  did  some  mysterious  telephoning;  but  the  valet 
didn't  hear  the  numbers,  and  didn't  know  what  it 
was  about.  After  Mr.  Appleton  had  gone  out,  the 
valet  looked  carefully  through  that  page  of  the 
paper  which  had  upset  his  master;  but  he  couldn't 
find  anything  in  it  which,  to  his  mind,  would  seem 
to  have  any  bearing  on  Mr.  Appleton's  affairs. 

"He  would  have  forgotten  all  about  it,  only  from 
that  minute  his  master  seemed  a  changed  man; 
to  him,  at  least.  More  irritable  than  ever,  and 
anxious — not  as  if  he  was  afraid,  but  as  if  he  was 
worried  about  to  death.  Once  in  the  last  month 
while  Louis  was  in  his  employ,  Mr.  Appleton 
had  gone  away  alone — just  over  night.  He's 
always  taken  Louis  with  him  before,  and  that  wat 


A  NEW  TURNING'  155 

what  impressed  it  upon  the  valet's  mind  as  being 
unusual.  Moreover,  when  he  returned,  he  seemed 
more  depressed  and  worried  than  ever." 

Inspector  Hanrahan  paused  as  if  for  commenda- 
tion; but  the  detective  merely  asked  quietly: 

"Anything  else?" 

"Not  from  Louis  Lantelme.  You  know  he  was 
discharged  about  a  month  ago.  But  when  I  went 
at  the  butler  with  this  line  of  questioning,  I  got 
a  few  more  facts.  I  told  you  I  thought  that  fel- 
low had  something  up  his  sleeve.  It  seems  that, 
about  three  weeks  ago,  Mr.  Appleton  received  a 
letter  with  a  special-deHvery  stamp,  quite  late 
one  evening. 

"There  was  a  dinner  on  at  the  house  and  lots 
of  guests  there;  but  he  excused  himself  and  went 
out  in  his  car.  He  didn't  return  until  nearly  six 
in  the  morning,  and  Dakers,  whom  he  had  told 
to  wait  up  for  him — and  I  guess  from  the  way  the 
fellow  talked  he  was  well  paid  for  it — says  the  car 
was  splashed  from  end  to  end  with  mud,  as  if  it 
had  had  a  long  run,  through  heavy  roads — although 
it  hadn't  rained  in  New  York  that  night." 

"Not  so  much  in  that,"  the  detective  remarked. 

"The  morning  before  his  death,  Mr.  Appleton 
received  another  special-delivery  letter.  This  time, 
Mr.  Appleton  went  out  in  his  car,  immediately, 
as  before;  but  he  returned  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  and,  from  then  until  dinner  time, 
Dakers  was  pretty  busy  bringing  him  drinks.     He 


156  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

did  not  seem  anxious  or  worried  then,  but  madder 
than  the  deuce. 

"We  couldn't  get  a  thing  out  of  Mr.  Appleton's 
chauffeur,  at  first.  He  and  Mr.  Yates  each  had 
their  own,  you  know,  and  Mr.  Garret's  is  a  stoHd 
German,  and  I  suspect  was  paid  to  keep  his  mouth 
shut.  But,  after  we  had  been  at  him  for  awhile, 
he  said  he  had  driven  Mr.  Appleton,  on  the  day 
before  his  death,  to  a  road-house  away  up  on  the 
Boston  Post  Road,  where  he's  had  his  own  lunch, 
and  waited  for  three  hours  for  his  employer.  Then 
he  brought  him  straight  home. 

''I  got  the  name  of  the  road-house  from  him. 
It's  The  Rocky  Point  Inn,  and  I'm  going  up  there 
for  dinner  tonight,  and  find  out  what  Garret 
Appleton  did  during  those  three  hours  and  whom 
he  met,  and  then  I  am  going  to  trace  them,  if  I 
can. 

"As  to  the  time  before,  when  they  went  on  that 
all-night  trip,  they  went  over  to  Jersey,  by  w^ay 
of  Staten  Island  and  Perth  Amboy  Ferry,  to  a  farm- 
house half-way  between  Metuchen  and  New  Bruns- 
wick. I  have  got  two  men  out  there  now,  with  the 
chauffeur  to  show  them  the  house,  and  see  what 
we  get  out  of  that." 

"What  do  you  think,  yourself.  Inspector?  Got 
a  theory?" 

"I  think  they're  the  most  confoundedly  mys- 
terious bunch  I  ever  came  in  contact  with.  Mr. 
Garret  Appleton  was  in  some  secret  mix-up  of  his 


A  NEW  TURNING  157 

own,  as  sure  as  you  are  alive — nothing  criminal, 
or  anything  of  that  sort,  I  think;  but  some- 
thing he  didn't  take  his  family  into  his  affairs 
about.  They  were  a  swift  couple,  those  two 
brothers,  from  all  I  have  been  able  to  gather. 
They've  kept  the  family  in  hot  water  and  them- 
selves just  out  of  scare-heads  in  the  newspapers 
since  their  college  days;  but  I  think  I'm  on  the 
trail  of  something  at  last." 

"You  have  done  a  lot,  Inspector;  but  I  don't 
quite  see  where  it  comes  in  connection  with  the 
murder.     Do  you?" 

"No,"  Inspector  Hanrahan  admitted.  "I  don't 
quite  see  that  yet  myself;  but  it  may  come  out 
later.  Anyway,  it's  worth  sifting  to  the  bottom. 
We've  not  got  any  other  clue  to  go  on." 

"Of  course,"  Gaunt  said  musingly,  as  if  to  him- 
self, "if  any  outsider,  who  has  not  come  into  the 
case  as  yet,  committed  the  murder,  he  must  have 
had  an  ally  in  the  house  to  let  him  in,  in  the  first 
place,  and  then  attempt  to  conceal  traces  of  the 
crime  afterward,  and  that  hardly  seems  feasible, 
since  no  one  seems  to  have  known  of  this  private 
matter  except  Garret  Appleton,  himself," 

"How  about  that  butler,  Dakers?  I've  had  my 
eye  on  him  from  the  first.  I  cannot  help  feeling, 
somehow,  that  he  holds  the  key  to  the  whole 
thing." 

The  Inspector  had  risen,  and  Gaunt  rose  with 
him. 


158  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"Inspector,  it's  well  that  you've  no  stealthy- 
criminal  to  trail  tonight — a  criminal  with  trained 
ears  and  a  sense  of  humor,"  the  detective  remarked 
jestingly.  "If  you  had,  your  task  would  be  hope- 
less from  the  start." 

"Why?"  The  Inspector  reddened,  and  shifted 
uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the  other.  "I  don't 
get  you,  Mr.  Gaunt." 

"Your  boots,  man!  I  could  hear  you  coming 
three  hundred  yards  away.  You've  taken  to 
wearing  that  soft  goat's-skin,  again,  machine- 
sewn,  and  you  creak  like  a  windlass!"  He  clapped 
the  discomfited  official  on  the  back  in  friendly 
fashion,  and  added:  "Well,  let  me  know  if  you 
get  anything,  and,  if  I  learn  anything,  definitely, 
you'll  hear  from  me.  Turn  about  is  only  fair 
play,  and  we  seem  to  be  working  together  on  this 
thing." 

"Yes,  sir.  I've  not  forgotten  the  pointer  you 
gave  me  last  night — to  watch  that  butler.  To 
be  sure,"  he  added  hastily,  "I  have  suspected  him 
all  along,  as  I've  said,  of  knowing  something;  but 
it  sort  of  confirmed  it,  when  I  found  he'd  impressed 
you  the  same  way.  You'll  hear  from  me  in  the 
morning,  sir." 

After  he  had  departed.  Gaunt  dined  hastily, 
and  then  spent  the  intervening  time  before  the 
anticipated  arrival  of  Randolph  Force  at  the 
telephone.  His  several  short  conversations  seemed 
to    bring    him    no    satisfaction,    however,    and    he 


A  NEW  TUENINa  159 

turned  from  his  own  thoughts  with  a  distinct 
feeling  of  relief,  when  his  visitor  was  announced. 

Randolph  Force's  step  was  firm  and  steady, 
his  handclasp  warm  and  vigorous,  his  voice  low 
and  rich.  He  brought  in  with  him  a  breath  of  the 
cool,  clean  outdoors  and  a  faint  odor  of  good 
tobacco.  Gaunt  felt  instinctively  drawn  to  this 
man,  who  was  the  affianced  husband  of  the  woman 
who  had  so  deeply  impressed  him. 

He  seemed,  even  in  the  first  few  moments  of 
their  meeting,  to  be  a  fit  mate  for  her,  strong  and 
controlled  and  ringing  true. 

"Mr.  Gaunt?  Miss  Ellerslie  told  me  you  wished 
to  see  me.     If  I  can  be  of  any  assistance — " 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Force.  I  wanted  some  infor- 
mation, in  a  general  way,  concerning  the  Appleton 
family — the  men  of  the  family,  in  particular — from 
one  who  had  knov/n  them  v/ell,  yet  who  was  not 
one  of  their  intimate  associates.  I  thought  that 
you  would  be  able  to  give  it  to  me." 

The  other  man  laughed  pleasantly. 

"I've  known  them  always — the  two  boys,  I 
mean.  What  makes  you  think  I  am  not  an  asso- 
ciate of  theirs?" 

"Because  Miss  Ellerslie  tells  me  that  she  is 
engaged  to  you.  She  would  not  be  Hkely,  I  think, 
to  choose  her  future  husband  from  among  the 
confreres  of  her  brother-in-law." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  the  young 
man  said  gravely: 


160  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"I  see  your  point,  Mr.  Gaunt.  As  a  matter- 
of-fact,  although  my  family  and  the  Appletons 
have  been  closely  allied  socially  for  three  gener- 
ations, I've  never  gone  around  very  much  with 
J  Garret  and  Yates.  Our  interests — let  us  say, 
our  ideas  of  amusement — differ." 

"Can  you  tell  me — confidentially,  of  course — 
something  of  the  two  men,  Mr.  Force — something 
of  their  characters  and  pursuits?" 

"That's  rather  a  difficult  proposition.  A  man 
doesn't  like  to  discuss  other  men,  from  a  personal 
standpoint.  Yates  is  rather  an  ass,  I  should  say. 
No  real  downright  harm  in  him;  but  he  goes  the 
pace,  and  his  friends  make  a  fool  of  him,  gener- 
ally. With  Garret — hang  it  all!  one  shouldn't 
speak  ill  of  the  dead — but  the  same  tendencies 
Yates  manifests  had  sunk  in  deeper  in  him,  if  you 
know  what  I  mean — the  tendency  to  consider 
vices  a  form  of  modern  sport.  With  Yates,  it  is 
merely  foolish  weakness;  with  Garret,  it  had  be- 
come sheer  evilness.  Yates  drinks  with  his  crowd; 
Garret  alone.  Yates  is  without  moral  stamina; 
Garret  was  deliberately,  shrewdly  vicious.  You 
understand  the  distinction  I  am  endeavoring  to 
make?" 

"Perfectly.  You  say  that  your  family  have  been 
closely  allied  to  that  of  the  Appletons,  for  three 
generations?  Can  you  tell  me  something  of  their 
antecedents?" 

"Their  father,  Finlay  Appleton,  was  a  fine  old 


A  NEW  TURNING  161 

man,  and  a  great  friend  of  my  late  father's.  Their 
grandfather,  Appleton,  started  in  life  as  an  up- 
state farmer's  boy,  and  died  a  multi-millionaire 
and  power  in  Wall  Street.  Their  mother  was  a 
Yates — one  of  the  Tuxedo  Yates.  Her  people 
were  rich,  too,  but  far  from  being  as  wealthy  as 
the  Appletons.  Her  father  was  a  born  miser, 
and  would  have  done  anything,  gone  to  any  lengths, 
to  accumulate  and  hoard  money.  That  is  a  trait 
which  Garret  Appleton  had  inherited  to  a  marked 
degree.  He,  of  course,  entertained  lavishly,  and 
spent  money  with  seeming  extravagance;  but  it 
was  only  to  keep  up  his  position  before  the  world, 
to  gain  the  reputation  of  being  a  generous,  but 
never  spendthrift,  millionaire. 

"From  his  grandfather,  Yates,  he  inherited  an 
inordinate  love  of  money  for  its  own  sake,  and 
there  have  more  than  once  been  whispers  in  the 
Street  that  his  operations  were  not  entirely  on  the 
level;  in  fact,  were  perilously  near  the  danger 
line.  Of  this,  I  think,  his  wife  was  in  total  ignor- 
ance; but  then,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  he  never  took 
the  trouble  to  make  a  companion  or  confidant 
of  her." 

"Being  engaged  to  Miss  EllersHe,  you  must 
know  of  the  conditions  existing  in  the  household 
of  her  brother-in-law. " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Gaunt;  but  I  prefer  not  to  speak  of 
them.  You  understand  that,  even  to  aid  you  in 
your  investigation,  it  would  be  impossible  for  me 


162  AT  ONE-THIETY 

to  do  so.  Miss  Ellerslie  has  told  me  that  you  are 
aware  of  the  circumstances  under  which  they  Hved, 
of  the  unhappiness  of  her  sister's  home  life,  and  the 
hostile  attitude  assumed  toward  them  by  the  other 
members  of  the  family.  Surely,  that  is  sufficient, 
without  going  into  details,  which  can  have  no 
bearing  on  the  fact  of  Garret's  death,  and  which 
really  concern  only  the  people  involved?  Really, 
it  is  a — a  painful  subject." 

"I  am  going  to  be  very  frank  with  you,  Mr. 
Force.  I  am  going  to  assume  that  you,  as  a  pros- 
pective member  of  the  family,  are  cognizant,  at 
least,  of  all  the  intimate,  personal  facts,  which  I, 
as  a  detective,  have  been  able  to  glean  in  two 
days.  I  know  that  Mr.  Appleton  had  transferred 
his  affections  from  his  wife  to  a  young  society  girl, 
a  frequent  guest  at  his  house,  and  that,  partly  in 
consequence  of  that,  partly  because  of  certain 
traits  in  his  character,  his  behavior  to  his  wife  was 
brutal  in  the  extreme.  But  I  heard  a  suggestion, 
also,  that  young  Mrs.  Appleton  herself  was  not 
without  an  opportunity  of  consoling  herself,  whether 
she  availed  herself  of  it,  or  not." 

"What?"  the  young  man  roared,  jumping  to 
his  feet.  "They  dared  to  do  that!  To  utter  a 
whisper  against  an  innocent,  deeply  suffering 
woman!  That  was  Yates,  not  his  mother,  I 
know.  She  is  too  jealous  of  the  family  honor, 
too  fearful  of  gossip  and  scandal — of  which  she 
has  already  endured  enough,  through  her  sons — 


A  NEW  TUENING  163 

to  breathe  a  word  against  anyone  who  bore  her 
name.  It  must  have  been  Yates — the  contempt- 
ible cur!    Now  I  will  speak,  Mr.  Gaunt!" 

Randolph  Force  turned,  and  began  pacing  fur- 
iously up  and  down  before  the  hearth;  and  Gaunt 
rested  motionless  in  his  chair,  waiting  for  the  other's 
suddenly  aroused  indignation  to  find  vent  in  speech. 
At  length,  Force  stopped  abruptly,  facing  the  de- 
tective, and  his  words  came  with  a  rush: 

"Natalie  Appleton  is  as  true  and  loyal  a  little 
woman,  as  gentle  a  spirit,  as  ever  existed.  She 
would  not  utter  a  word  of  complaint,  of  disparage- 
ment even,  under  all  the  weight  of  her  husband's 
intolerable  cruelties.  For  he  was  cruel;  not  pas- 
sionately, but  systematically,  fiendishly.  Never 
mind  how  I  know.  It  was  not,  I  assure  you,  from 
her  own  lips.  A  man  who  was  as  constant  a  visitor 
at  the  house  as  I,  the  prospective  husband  of  her 
sister,  could  not  help  but  inadvertently  observe 
much  that  was  not  meant  for  his  eyes,  hear  much 
that  was  not  meant  for  his  ears,  and  come  inevit- 
ably to  know  the  truth. 

"I  did  not  need  the  gossip  of  the  clubs  and  the 
business  world — although  I  heard  enough  of  it, 
heaven  knows! — to  know  the  sort  of  life  she  and  her 
sister  were  leading.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Gaunt,  if 
those  two  girls  had  had  a  single  male  relative  liv- 
ing. Garret  Appleton  would  have  had  a  bullet  in 
his  heart  long  ago!" 

He  stopped   suddenly,   and,   in   the  silence   that 


164  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

followed,  Gaunt  could  hear  the  creaking  of  the 
heavy  leather  chair,  as  the  young  man  flung  him- 
self back  in  his  seat.  Although  the  detective 
waited,  he  did  not  speak  again,  and  the  stillness 
deepened  and  was  prolonged  between  them,  until  it 
seemed  to  hang,  heavy  and  sentient,  upon  the  air. 
At  last.  Gaunt  himself  broke  the  spell: 

"You  have  known  Miss  Ellerslie  long,  Mr. 
Force?" 

"Ever  since  she  came  North,  to  make  her  home 
with  her  sister.  Although  not  intimate  with  either 
of  the  brothers,  as  I  have  said,  our  families  were 
old  friends,  and  I  have  been  a  frequent  visitor, 
with  my  mother  and  sisters,  at  Mrs.  Finlay  Ap- 
pleton's  house.  When  Garret  married,  of  course, 
I  called,  and  admired  his  pretty,  blonde  little 
wife  tremendously,  even  before  I  realized  the 
strength  of  character  that  lay  behind  her  physical 
frailty.  Then — then  I  met  Miss  Ellerslie,  and  I — 
well,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  imagine  you  know  how  it  is 
with  a  man!" 

He  paused  in  a  sudden  access  of  boyish  con- 
fusion, which  was  infinitely  attractive  after  his 
outburst  of  very  real  indignation  and  the  self- 
repression  that  had  followed  it.  But  the  detective 
did  not  heed  the  tone  so  much  as  the  words  them- 
selves. He,  too,  had  experienced  the  magnetism 
that  Barbara  Ellerslie's  mere  presence  bore  with 
it,  the  music  in  the  soft,  drawling  pulsation  of  her 
voice,    the    unnamable   charm    in    the  nearness   of 


A  NEW  TURNING  165 

her.  The  mention  of  her  by  the  other  man  had 
seemed  to  evoke  her  actual  being;  it  was  as  if 
she  were  there  in  that  room,  standing  before  him, 
before  his  sightless  eyes.  He  could  almost  hear 
the  sound  of  her  light  footfall,  feel  the  brush  of 
her  skirt  against  his  knee,  the  touch  of  her  cool 
little  hand;  smell  the  fresh,  pure  fragrance  of  her, 
the  perfume  of  her  breath  upon  his  cheek,  as  when 
she  had  leaned  toward  him  in  the  earnestness  of 
her  disclosures  of  the  previous  day.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes, 
he  knew  hov/  it  was  with  a  man! 

"You  were — to  have  been  married  soon?"  He 
heard  his  own  voice  quietly,  steadily,  breaking 
the  silence. 

"This  autumn,  if  things  had  grown  a  little  brighter 
for  Natalie.  I've  had  a  splendid  post  offered  me 
in  Russia.  I  don't  need  the  money,  of  course; 
but  it  is  a  wonderful  opportunity  in  the  diplo- 
matic world.  When  it  became  evident  that  Bar- 
bara— that  Miss  Ellerslie  could  not  leave  her 
sister,  I  renounced  it,  of  course,  and  now  every- 
thing must  be  left  to  the  future.  I  have  hopes, 
though,  that,  when  Natalie's  health  is  restored 
from  the  effects  of  this  frightful  shock,  and  the  long 
martyrdon  she  has  endured,  we  three  may  go 
away  together.  I  don't  know  why  I  am  telling 
you  this,  Mr.  Gaunt;  but  I  wanted  to  make  my 
own  position  in  regard  to  the  family  plain  to  you." 

"I  quite  understand.  But,  Mr.  Force,  you 
parried  my    implied    question    of   awhile    ago.     Is 


166  AT  ONE-THIRTY  , 

there  no  one,  to  your  knowledge  or  belief,  whose 
admiration  and  sympathy,  perhaps,  for  young 
Mrs.  Appleton,  may  have  led  to  deeper  feeling — 
on  his  part  at  least?" 

He  was  all  the  detective  now,  cool,  inscrutable, 
with  a  compelling  firmness  in  his  tones;  and  the 
other  realized  that  the  note  of  confidential  friend- 
liness, which  for  a  moment  had  persuaded  him  to 
lower  his  own  guard  of  reserve,  was  gone. 

"There  may  be  such  a  one,  or  more  than  one, 
as  the  problematical  person  of  whom  you  speak, 
Mr.  Gaunt.  There  may  be  one  among  the  number 
who  were  welcome  guests  in  her  house,  who  realized 
her  unhappiness,  and  recognized  the  beauty  of  her 
simple,  childlike  nature.  But,  if  such  a  person 
exists,  rest  assured  that  he  appreciates  her  stanch- 
ness,  her  loyalty,  her  innate  purity,  and  he  would 
be  a  cad  indeed,  if  he'd  ever  allowed  any  thought 
other  than  that  of  the  most  disinterested  compas- 
sion and  highest  friendship  and  honor  to  enter 
his  mind  in  connection  with  her." 

"Thanh  you,  Mr.  Force.  You  have  answered 
me.  And,  now,  it  is  late,  I  know — I  will  not 
detain  you  longer.  Thank  you,  too,  for  coming. 
When  next  you  see  Miss  Ellerslie,  please  assure 
her  that  I  shall  hope  soon  to  have  good  news  for 
her." 

A  quick,  firm  handclasp,  a  conventional  phrase 
or  two,  the  soft  closing  of  the  door,  and  Gaunt  was 
alone.     He  sat  for  long  hours  in  his  solitary  chair 


A  NEW  TUENING  167 

before  the  empty  hearth,  musing.  His  thoughts 
could  not  have  been  altogether  on  the  problem 
before  him;  for,  now  and  then,  a  faint,  almost 
reminiscent,  smile  crossed  his  thin,  ascetic  face, 
and  once  he  turned  his  head  quickly,  as  if  at  the 
sound  of  a  soft  footfall,  or  the  silken  rustle  of  a 
gown.  And,  once,  he  moved  his  slim,  sensitive 
fingers  lightly  over  the  smooth  leather  arm  of  his 
chair,  as  if  again  for  an  instant  his  hand  rested 
upon  the  head  of  a  woman. 


CHAPTER  XI 

AT  hanrahan's  suggestion 

INSPECTOR  HANRAHAN  presented  himself  at 
Gaunt's  rooms  at  an  early  hour,  and  it  was 
plainly  evident,  in  the  exuberance  of  his 
handshake  and  his  jubilant  tone,  that  his  self-satis- 
faction of  the  previous  day  had  increased. 

"You're  on  the  trail,  Inspector.  I  can  tell 
from  your  manner  that  you  have  got  the  scent." 

"I  think  I  have,  sir — I  think  I  have.  Whatever 
it  leads  to,  Louis  and  the  butler  were  right.  There's 
something  mysterious  been  going  on  that  Garret 
Appleton  was  concerned  with,  all  right." 

"What  did  you  learn  at  the  inn,  last  night? 
Had  Mr.  Appleton  met  someone  up  there  for  a 
conference?" 

"He  had  not.  He  was  too  clever  for  that.  He 
wasn't  going  to  give  the  chauffeur  anything  on  him, 
if  he  could  help  it.  He  reached  there  about  half- 
past  twelve,  and,  after  seeing  that  his  chauffeur's 
wants  would  be  attended  to,  instead  of  lunching 
there,  he  went  into  the  bar  alone,  and  had  a  drink, 
and  then  beac  it  out  a  side  door,  after  looking 
carefully  to  see  that  his  man  had  put  the  car  up, 
and  gone  to  the  chauffeur's  dining-room. 

"An  assistant  bartender  and  one  of  the  waiters, 

168 


AT  HANRAHAN'S  SUGGESTION  169 

who  was  serving  a  party  on  the  side  porch,  saw  him 
go  across  the  fields — it's  real  country  up  there, 
you  know — and  disappear  in  a  patch  of  wood- 
land to  the  left.  He  stayed  away  until  almost 
I  three  o'clock,  and,  when  he  reappeared,  there  were 
two  men  with  him;  a  short  stoutish  man,  and  a 
tall,  younger  one.  That's  all  the  description  I 
could  get  of  them  from  the  waiter  who  saw  them, 
because  they  halted  at  the  edge  of  the  field,  talked 
together  for  a  moment,  and  then  Mr.  Appleton 
came  straight  back  to  the  inn." 

**Did  you  investigate  beyond  that  patch  of  wood- 
land, Inspector,"  Gaunt  asked,  thoughtfully. 

**0f  course,  I  did;  but  it  was  dark,  and  I  couIdn*t 
make  out  very  much.  After  I  found  out  all  I  could 
at  the  inn,  I  told  the  chaufi'eur  of  the  car  I  hired 
to  drive  around  by  way  of  that  patch  of  woods. 
He  found  a  lane  leading  to  it,  after  a  little  trouble, 
and  we  came  upon  a  little  farmhouse,  painted 
white,  or  light  yellow.  I  went  in  an  asked  for 
some  water  for  the  engine,  and  found  out  that  a 
stolid  old  English  couple,  named  Crabtree,  lived 
there  quite  alone,  and  there  isn't  any  other  house 
for  a  long  distance  around;  but  back  of  their  place 
is  a  short  cut  that  leads  into  the  Boston  Post  Road, 
near  Greenwich." 

"Did  you  learn  anything  else  at  the  inn?" 

"Only  that,  wherever  Mr.  Appleton  had  been, 
he  hadn't  had  any  lunch,  and  he  hadn't  time 
to  get  any  there.     He  bolted   down  a  couple  of 


170  AT  ONE-THIETY 

sandwiches  and  another  drink,  while  his  chauffeur 
was  bringing  the  car  around,  and  they  must  have 
exceeded  the  speed  Hmit  going  back  to  town,  for, 
by  the  butler's  testimony,  he  reached  his  own 
house  at  five  or  a  little  after." 

"And  the  other  end  of  the  string — the  men  you 
sent  down  to  Jersey,  to  the  farm-house  near  New 
Brunswick?     What  have  you  heard  from  them?" 

"Well,  they  ran  up  against  a  snag;  but  it's  a 
significant  one.  A  middle-aged  couple  lived  there, 
a  man  and  his  wife,  named  Smith;  but  they  have 
gone,  and  the  house  is  deserted.  They  left  about 
two  weeks  ago.  They'd  been  living  there  for 
nearly  four  years.  Their  last  year's  lease  had 
still  about  seven  months  to  run,  and  they  went 
unexpectedly,  in  a  great  hurry. 

"My  men  got  their  information  from  the  neigh- 
bors around.  It  seems  this  Smith  rented  the  place 
from  his  next-door  neighbor,  who  had  a  great  big 
farm.  The  Smith's  place  was  little  and  mean,  and 
they  paid  only  ten  dollars  a  month  for  it.  They 
seemed  to  be  very  poor,  but  far  above  the  class 
around  them — more  like  gentlefolks,  down  on  their 
luck.  That's  all  my  men  could  find  out.  They 
didn't  leave  any  address,  or  tell  anyone  where  they 
were  going,  and  they  took  only  their  trunks  with 
them.  The  furniture — just  a  few  cheap  sticks 
which  they  brought  with  them  when  they  came — 
they  left  standing  in  the  house,  I  understand;  so 
that  looks  as  if  they  expected  to  come  back. 


AT  HANRAHAN'S  SUGGESTION  171 

"I  think  I'll  run  down  myself,  this  afternoon, 
and  have  a  look  around;  but  I  guess  what  you  call 
the  other  end  of  the  string  is  the  best  chance. 
I'll  get  back  to  that  inn  tomorrow  in  the  day- 
light, and  see  if  I  can't  find  some  trace  of  those 
two  men,  or  someone  who  saw  them  come  in  an 
automobile  or  carriage,  and  remembers  the  direc- 
tion. 

"Have  you  any  theory  to  fit  the  facts,  Inspec- 
tor?"   asked  the  detective,  with  quiet  humor. 

The  Inspector  shifted  rather  uneasily. 

"Well,  sir,  I  haven't  much  to  go  on.  But  why 
should  he  have  gone  to  that  out-of-the-way  hole 
in  Jersey  to  have  an  interview  with  a  perfectly 
respectable,  middle-aged  couple,  who'd  lived  there 
four  years;  and  then,  a  week  later,  they  up  and  dis- 
appear? Then,  on  the  very  day  before  his  death, 
he  goes  to  another  quiec  spot  in  the  country,  and 
meets  two  men  for  a  talk.  If  it's  business,  why 
don't  they  come  to  his  office?  If  it's  a  family  mat- 
ter, why  not  see  him  in  his  home  openly?  There's 
a  nigger  in  the  woodpile,  somewhere.  It  looks 
like  blackmail  to  me.  That's  my  theory — black- 
mail. They  were  getting  money  out  of  him  for 
something,  I'm  pretty  sure." 

"You  haven't  any  \^roof  of  that  from  what  you 
have  told  me," 

"Flaven't  1?  Didn't  he  pay  that  couple  in  Jersey 
\o  get  out  of  the  way,  and  get  out  quick?  And 
he  was  murdered  within  a  few  hours  after  his  inter- 


172  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

view  with  the  two  men — maybe  he  refused  to  give 
them  any  money;  maybe  he  was  tired  of  being 
bled,  and  told  them  so,  and  they  took  their  revenge. 
I  know  it  sounds  Hke  a  Fourteenth  Street  melo- 
drama, Mr.  Gaunt;  but,  nevertheless,  it's  happen- 
ing every  day  in  real  life,  as  you  and  I  both  know, 
and  the  police  records  can  show.  Anyway,  I'm 
ofF  to  look  up  that  Jersey  couple." 

When  Inspector  Hanrahan  had  departed.  Gaunt 
took  his  watch  from  his  pocket — a  curious  affair 
it  was,  made  without  a  crystal,  with  strong  hands 
and  raised  numerals,  and  the  detective's  fingers 
played  delicately  across  the  open  face.  It  was 
just  past  eleven.  Saunders  could  get  him  up  to 
the  Rocky  Point  Inn  in  good  time  for  lunch.  He 
v/ould  change  places  with  the  Inspector,  who  was 
going  to  Jersey,  and  the  following  day,  when  the 
police  oiHcial  went  to  the  inn,  Gaunt  would,  in 
turn,  visit  that  empty  farm-house  near  New 
Brunswick,  and  learn  what  he  could  of  the  couple 
with  the  significantly  ordinary  name. 

After  ordering  the  car,  he  called  the  Appleton 
house  on  the  telephone,  and,  at  his  request.  Miss 
Ellerslie  came  to  the  wire.  He  learned  that  young 
Mrs.  Appleton,  although  still  very  ill,  was  resting 
more  quietly,  and,  although  she  could  not  be  dis- 
turbed by  an  interview  for  several  days,  the  doctor 
thought  her  on  the  road  to  a  safe  and  reasonably 
rapid  recovery. 

Jenkins  announced  the  car,  and  Gaunt  was  soon 


AT  HANEAHAN'S  SUGGESTION  173 

speeding  up  Broadway.  The  air  was  milder  than 
on  the  previous  day,  and  gave  a  hint  of  the  coming 
Indian  summer.  The  swift  run  through  the  warm 
air  was  dcHghtful,  and  the  detective  listened 
eagerly  to  the  noises  of  street  life  all  about  him, 
which  gave  place,  gradually,  to  the  sounds  and 
smells  of  the  country  in  the  autumn;  the  groaning 
and  creaking  of  heavily  laden  produce-  and  hay- 
wagons,  the  odor  of  drying  leaves  and  ripening 
grain,  and  the  wine-like  scent  of  crushed  and 
dying  grapes. 

The}^  did  not  drive  at  breakneck  speed,  and  it 
was  half-past  one  before  the  car  came  to  a  grind- 
ing stop  on  the  gravel  driveway,  before  the  entrance 
of  the  inn.  To  the  head  waiter,  who  came  obse- 
quiously to  greet  him.  Gaunt  said: 

**I  am  lunching  alone.  I  should  like  a  table  on 
the  side  porch — the  left  side  of  the  house,  nearest 
the  door  leading  from  the  bar  out  to  the  driveway. 
See  that  my  chauffeur  has  his  luncheon  also, 
please.  He  will  guide  me  to  the  table."  In  a 
matter-of-fact  tone  he  added:   **I  am  bhnd." 

When  he  was  seated,  the  detective  asked  of  the 
chauffeur,  in  a  low  tone:  ' 

"Saunders,  is  this  the  table  I  asked  for?" 

"Yes,  sir;  the  nearest  table  to  the  door  leading 
from  the  bar.     It's  all  right,  sir." 

"All  right.  Go  and  have  your  own  lunch  now. 
I  want  to  start  off  again  in  about  an  hour." 

Because  of  his  inability  to  tell  by  the  sense  of 


174  AT  ONE-THIETY 

touch  the  denomination  of  the  bills  he  carried. 
Gaunt  kept  them  in  separate  purses,  of  different 
sizes,  stowed  about  his  pockets,  and  the  indefatig- 
able Miss  Barnes  sorted  them  for  him  each  morn- 
ing on  her  arrival.  Currency,  of  course,  he  could 
tell;  but  he  found  it  inconvenient  to  carry  much  gold 
about  with  him. 

After  Saunders  had  departed,  he  produced  the 
purse  containing  the  five-dollar  notes,  and  handed 
one  to  the  head  waiter,  who  was  still  hovering  about. 

"Look  here,  my  man,"  he  said.  "Did  you  know 
Mr.  Garret  Appleton  by  sight?  Was  he  a  frequent 
customer  here?  You  need  not  be  afraid  to  talk 
to  me — I  am  not  a  reporter." 

The  head  waiter's  fingers  closed  eagerly  over  the 
bill. 

•  "Yes,  sir,  I  knew  him  very  well,  sir.  I've  heard 
of  his — his  murder,  of  course.  He  was  up  here 
just  the  day  before." 

I  "It's  about  that  last  trip  of  his  that  I  want  to 
ask  you  some  questions.  I'm  a  friend  of  the  family. 
I  understand  he  didn't  lunch  here,  but  went  out 
again  almost  immediately  after  arriving,  and  walked 
over  the  fields  to  that  patch  of  woods."  He 
waved  his  hand  vaguely  toward  the  left. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Did  you  see  him  when  he  returned?" 
r   "Yes,  sir." 

'  "He  was  accompanied  by  two  men,  wasn't  he 
— one  short  and  one  tall?" 


AT  HANEAHAN'S  SUGGESTION  175 

"Yes;  but  only  as  far  as  the  edge  of  the  field, 
sir.  Then  he  left  them,  and  came  back  here  to 
the  inn;   had  a  quick  bite,  and  went  off  in  his  car." 

"It's  too  bad  that  you  didn't  get  a  close-enough 
view  of  those  two  men  to  give  me  a  description  of 
them." 

"But  I  did,  sir.  You  see,  they  only  went  back 
to  the  woods.  They  couldn't  have  gone  far,  and 
they  must  have  been  watching;  for,  directly  Mr. 
Appleton's  car  was  out  of  sight,  they  came  around 
by  way  of  the  lane — I  could  swear  it  was  the  same 
two,  sir — and  sat  down  just  two  tables  away  from 
where  you  are  sitting  now,  and  ordered  a  drink.  One 
was  short  and  quite  stout — that  was  the  old  one. 
He  might  have  been  about  forty-five,  or  fifty; 
but  you  can't  tell  exactly,  because  he  was  pale 
and  sallow,  and  looked  as  if  he'd  had  a  long  illness, 
or — or — 

"Go  on,  my  man,  there  is  five  dollars  more  in 
it  for  you,  if  you'll  tell  me  everything.  What 
were  you  going  to  say  then  ? " 

"Well,  of  course  I  don't  know  v/ho  he  was,  sir, 
and  I  haven't  any  right  to  speak  of  it,  but,  well, 
I  took  on  a  waiter  here,  once,  who  had  that  same 
queer  pallor,  and  his  hair  was  cropped  close.  After 
he'd  been  here  two  days,  he  disappeared  with  all 
the  hotel  silverware  he  could  carry  off,  and  I  found 
out  he  was  an  old  offender,  just  out  from  a  long 
term  in  prison. 

"That  stout  little  man,  here  Monday  afternoon. 


176  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

had  the  same  gray  look  on  his  face,  although  he 
was  mostly  bald,  and  what  little  hair  he  had  was 
shaved  quite  close.  It  came  over  me  all  of  a 
sudden  that  he  might  be  a  jail-bird,  too;  but  I 
could  have  kicked  myself  for  a  fool,  afterward, 
for  he — he  tipped  handsomely,  and  seemed  quite 
a  gentleman.  I've  heard,  sir,  that  when  a  prison- 
er's term  is  nearly  up,  they  let  his  hair  grow  for  a 
while  beforehand;  but  my  convict  waiter  had  been 
pardoned  on  short  notice — and  maybe  if  this 
gentleman  had  been  in  prison,  too,  he  might  have 
gotten  out  unexpected,  the  same  way." 

"And  the  younger  man — ^what  about  him?" 

"Oh,  he  was  in  his  twenties,  I  should  say.  A 
dark  young  man,  and  tanned  as  if  he'd  been  out 
in  the  open  air  a  lot.  They  looked  alike,  for  all 
their  difference  in  size  and  build;  and  they  must 
have  been  father  and  son,  for  I  heard  him  call  the 
old  man  *Dad."' 

"Did  you  ever  see  them  before?" 

"No,  sir."  The  man  hesitated  again.  "I  can't 
say  positive  that  I  have,  but  the  older  gentleman's 
face  seemed  sort  of  familiar.  Maybe  I'd  seen 
him  a  long  while  ago,  somewhere,  and  he's  changed 
a  lot.  I  have  a  good  memory  for  faces — a  head 
waiter's  got  to  have — and  I've  been  working 
around  New  York  these  thirty  years." 

"Did  they  stay  long?" 

"A  Httle  short  of  an  hour,  sir." 

"What  did  they  order?" 


AT  HANRAHAN'S  SUGGESTION  177 

"Nothing  to  eat;  just  drinks — a  champagne 
cup  for  the  older  gentleman,  and  plain  ginger  ale 
for  the  younger." 

"That  is  all.  You  may  get  my  luncheon  now. 
I*m  in  a  hurry  to  be  ofF.  .  .  .  But  wait  a  minute. 
How  did  you  hurt  your  hand?" 

"Cut  it  badly,  sir,  carving  the  other  night,  when 
I  was  in  a  hurry,  and  we  had  a  big  rush.  But 
how  did  you — " 

"When  you  placed  the  silver  before  me,  you  used 
your  left  hand,  and  that  clumsily,  as  if  you  were 
unaccustomed  to  it." 

There  was  the  noise  and  bustle  about  them  of 
arriving  lunch  parties,  and  the  head  waiter  seemed 
anxious  to  be  about  his  duties;  so  Gaunt  slipped 
into  the  ready  hand  the  other  promised  bill,  and 
said  in  a  low  tone: 

"Send  the  waiter  to  me  for  my  luncheon 
order  now,  and  be  sure  it  is  the  same  one  who 
waited  on  those  two  gentlemen,  on  Monday  after- 
noon." 

"Yes,  sir,  thank  you,  sir;"  and  the  head  waiter 
departed. 

After  a  few  moments,  there  was  a  deferential 
cough  beside  Gaunt,  and  a  voice  said: 

"I  am  the  waiter  you  wanted,  sir.  Shall  I  read 
the  menu  to  you?" 

Evidently,  the  head  waiter  had  told  him  of  his 
patron's  affliction. 

"Yes;   take  my  order,  and  then  come  back." 


178  AT  ONE-THIETY 

Gaunt  indicated  a  simple  luncheon;  then,  when 
the  waiter  returned,  said: 

"What's  your  name?" 

"Henry,  sir." 

"Well,  Herry,  there  is  a  good  tip  in  it  for  you, 
if  )'^ou'll  answer  my  questions.  You  waited  on  two 
gentlemen,  Monday  afternoon,  about — ^well,  we'll 
say  about  four  o'clock,  or  a  little  after.  You  served 
them  champagne  cup  and  ginger  ale.  Do  you 
remember  them?" 

"Yes,  sir;   quite  well,  sir." 

"Did  you  overhear  anything  they  said  to  each 
other?" 

"Only  a  little,  sir.  They  seemed  very  excited 
and  pleased  about  something — quite  as  if  they 
were  celebrating.  But  they  were  mostly  quiet 
when  I  came  around  the  table,  and  acted  cautious; 
for,  after  the  older  gentleman  had  had  his  first 
pint  of  wine,  and  I  was  bringing  them  the  second, 
he  was  talking  quite  loud,  and  the  younger  hushed 
him  up.  All  I  heard  was  the  stout  Httie  man  say; 
*Well,  I  guess  we've  got  him  where  we  want  him, 
Rupert.  He  will  come  across  all  right.  Smith 
has  flown,  damn  him! — I  beg  you  pardon,  sir — 
*  Smith  has  flown;  but  Appleton  was  the  main 
one  I  meant  to  get  after,  any  way.'  That  is  all, 
sir.  They  didn't  stay  long  after  that.  The  Httle, 
stout  man  paid  the  bill,  and  gave  me  a  very  good 
tip,  and  then  they  went  away,  walking  oflF  around 
by  the  lane." 


AT  HANRAHAN'S  SUGGESTION  179 

"Would  you  know  them  again,  if  you  saw  them?** 

"Yes,  sir." 

"They'd  never  been  in  here  before,  either  of 
them?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of,  sir.  I  don't  think  I  waited 
on  them,  if  they  were.  But  sometimes  we  have 
an  awful  rush,  especially  in  the  spring  and  summer.'* 

"You've  been  here  long?" 

"Going  on  three  years,  sir." 

"That  is  all,  Henry.  You  may  get  my  luncheon 
now." 

After  eating  a  hasty  meal,  and  bestowing  upon 
the  waiter  his  promised  tip.  Gaunt  entered  his  car, 
and  told  Saunders  to  drive  down  the  lane,  past 
the, clump  of  woodland,  until  he  came  to  a  small 
farm-house. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  they  stopped,  and  Saun- 
ders led  the  detective  through  the  gate,  and  up  a 
trim  little  path  to  the  door,  upon  which  he  rapped 
smartly. 

Shuffling  steps  were  heard  within;  then  the 
door  creaked,  and  a  woman's  aged,  quavering 
voice  asked  their  business. 

"You  are  Mrs.  Crabtree?" 

"Yes,  sir."  The  woman's  accent  held  a  strong 
hint  of  tlie  South  of  England. 

"Where  is  your  husband?  I  want  to  speak  to 
nirn. 

"In  the  garden,  bringing  in  the  pumpkins.  If 
*e'll  sit  'e  doon  'ere,  sir,  I  will  go  fetch  'im  for  'e.'* 


180  AT  ONE-THIETY 

Gaunt  seated  himself  in  the  chair  she  offered, 
and  Saunders  started  back  to  his  machine;  but 
the  detective  bade  him  sit  on  the  steps  of  the 
little  porch,  within  a  few  feet  of  the  opened 
door. 

Presently  the  shuffling  feet  were  heard  returning 
upon  the  stony  little  path,  accompanied  by  a 
stronger,  firmer  tread,  and  a  man's  voice,  old,  but 
more  vigorous  than  the  woman's  had  been,  sounded 
upon  his  ears. 

"I  am  Albert  Crabtree,  sir.  'E  wished  for  to 
see  me?" 

"Yes,  Crabtree;  I  want  your  record.  Oh,  you 
needn't  be  afraid  of  me;  I  am  not  a  police  officer, 
and  I  will  pay  you  well.  How  long  have  you 
lived  here?" 

The  old  man  hesitated,  and,  in  spite  of  Gaunt's 
reassurance,  his  voice  took  on  a  note  of  fear. 

*'My  record's  a  clean  one,  sir.  I'm  afeered  to 
have  no  man  know  it." 

"I'm  sure  of  that,  Crabtree.  You're  English, 
aren't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir;  we're  in  this  country  sixteen  years, 
or  more,  Lisbeth  an'  me." 

"How  long  have  you  lived  in  this  house?" 

"Goin'  on  four  years,  sir." 

Going  on  four  years!  The  same  length  of  time 
the  couple  named  Smith  had  lived  in  the  old  Jersey 
farm-house! 

"Before  that  you  were  where?" 


AT  HANRAHAN'S  SUGGESTION  181 

"In  New  York,  sir." 

"What  did  you  do?     Had  you  a  trade?" 

"No,  sir.'* 

The  old  man  seemed  to  hesitate,  and  the  detective 
asked  again: 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"  I  was  a — a  coachman,  sir." 

"Any  your  wife?" 

There  was  a  touch  of  pride  in  the  old  man's 
voice  as  he  answered: 

"Lizbeth  ben't  ever  in  service  since  we  was 
married." 

"For  whom  were  you  coachman,  Crabtree?" 

"When  we  fust  coom  over?  For  the  ClintonSj. 
on  Washington  Square." 

"And  then  for  whom?" 

There  was  no  answer,  and  the  old  man's  feet 
shuffled  uneasily  on  the  porch. 

After  a  long  minute,  the  old  woman's  quavering 
voice  cried  out: 

"Why  don't  'e  answer,  Albert,  my  man?  We've 
nowt  to  be  ashamed  of,  and  'e  was  a  kind  master 
always, 

"  'Twas  Mr.— Mr.  Hitchcock,  sir." 

Something  in  the  man's  voice,  no  less  than  his 
hesitation,  made  the  detective  ask  quickly: 

'^  What  Mr.  Hixhcock?" 

"Mr.  Rupert  Hitchcock,  sir." 

An  illuminating  ray  of  thought  flashed  over 
Gaunt's  mind. 


182  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"Not  Rupert  Hitchcock,  of  Smith,  Hitchcock 
&.  Gregory?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,  and  as  Lisbeth  says,  'There  is  nought 
to  be  ashamed  of  in  that/  For,  whatever  they 
said  he  did,  he  was  a  kind  gentleman.*' 

'Well,  Crab  tree,  I  would  like  to  speak  to  him. 
Will  you  tell  him  so,  please?'* 

The  old  wife  gave  a  Httle,  sharp  cry,  and  the 
man  replied  uneasily: 

"Tell  'im,  sir!  'Ow  can  I  tell  'im,  sir?  I  don't 
knov/  where  'e  is." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do.  He  is  here  in  your  house, 
with  his  son  Rupert,  Junior." 

"Indeed,  an'  'e  isn't,  sir!  Mr.  Hitchcock  ben't 
'ere." 

^*He  was  here  Monday  afternoon.  A  gentle- 
man called  on  him,  and  the  three  walked  away  to- 
gether, and  Mr.  Hitchcock  and  his  son  didn't 
return  until  after  five." 

After  a  pause,  the  old  woman  said  tremblingly: 

"'E  better  tell  the  gentleman,  Albert.  'E 
knows,  anyway." 

"Well,  sir,  it  can't  do  Mr.  Hitchcock  any  harm. 
'E  an'  Master  Rupert  came  late  Sunday  night, 
an'  stayed  wi'  us  till  Monday  night,  and  the  gentle- 
man came  in  the  afternoon,  just  as  'e  said." 

"Did  you  expect  them  Sunday?" 

"No,  they  just  dropped  from  the  clouds,  like, 
and  asked  if  we  would  put  them  up  for  a  day. 
They'd    been   good    to   Lisbeth    an'    me,    before — 


AT  HANRAHAN'S  SUGGESTION  183 

before  Mr.  Hitchcock's  trouble,  sir;  an'  we  was 
only  too  glad  to  do  anything  we  could." 

"At  what  time  did  they  leave  on  Monday  night?" 

"As  soon  as  it  was  dark,  sir.  A  fine,  big  motor 
car  came  for  them,  and  took  them  away." 

"Did  Mr.  Hitchcock  say  anything  about  seeing 
you  again?" 

"Only  that — 'e'd  see  us  sometime,  sir,  and  'e 
gave  me  twenty  dollars,  and  shook  hands  wi'  us 
both. 

The  detective  rose. 

"You  can  crank  up  now,  Saunders"  he  said,  "and 
we'll  be  oiT." 

Turning  to  the  old  man,  he  held  out  a  bill  of  the 
same  denomination  as  those  he  had  tendered  the 
head  waiter  at  the  inn. 

Albert  Crabtree  took  it,  but  in  rather  a  doubt- 
ful manner,  and  said  hesitatingly: 

"I  wouldn't  want  to  take  it,  sir,  if  I — I'd  been 
*urting  Mr.  Hitchcock  by  what  I  have  told  'e." 

"You  haven't,  Crabtree.  You  see,  I  knew  it 
all  the  time.  Nothing  can  harm  Mr.  Hitchcock, 
now;   he  is  as  free  as  any  of  us.'" 

The  old  woman,  divining  Gaunt's  affliction, 
guided  him  down  the  path.  Half-way  to  the  car, 
she  allowed  a  slight  groan  to  escape  her,  and  he 
turned  sympathetically  to  her. 

"Has  it  been  very  bad,  this  winter?" 

She  looked  at  him,  startled. 

"What,    sir?     My    rheumatism   you    mean?     It 


184  AT  ONE-TmRTY 

'as  been  bad;  but  one  must  expect  things  when 
one  gets  on  in  years.     'Tis  in  my  left  leg,  sir." 

**Yes,  I  heard  you  drag  your  left  foot  a  little. 
That  was  why  I  asked.  I  hope  it  will  be  better. 
.  .  .  Good-day,  Mrs.  Crabtree." 

In  the  car,  as  he  rolled  swiftly  cityward,  the 
amazing  revelations  of  the  afternoon  pounded  un- 
ceasingly in  Gaunt's  brain.  Rupert  Hitchcock! 
The  man  who  had  wrecked  the  powerful  Wall 
Street  firm  of  Smith,  Hitchcock  V.  Gregory,  of 
which  he  was  junior  partner,  and  who  had  been 
sentenced  to  seven  years  in  prison  for  the  mis- 
appropriation of  funds! 

What  connection  had  there  been  between  him 
and  the  murdered  man?  What  secret  had  they 
shared,  what  mystery  guarded?  By  some  strange 
stroke  of  fate,  could  it  be  from  his  hand  that  the 
bullet  had  sped  to  the  heart  of  Garret  Appleton? 


CHAPTER  XII 

DEVIOUS    WAYS 

THE  night's  reflections  served  to  alter  Gaunt's 
plans  for  the  next  day,  and,  at  as  early 
an  hour  as  he  conventionally  could,  he 
stepped  from  his  motor  at  the  door  of  the  Blen- 
heim, and  was  guided  to  Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton's 
apartments.  That  lady,  mindful  that  his  afflic- 
tion prevented  a  betrayal  of  her  early-morning 
appearance,  received  him  without  delay,  and  all 
but  inundated  him  under  a  storm  of  anxious 
queries.  When  the  eager  flow  of  questioning  had 
abated  somewhat,  the  detective  ventured  to  speak: 

"Please,  please,  my  dear  Mrs.  Appleton!  You 
must  believe  that  I  appreciate,  in  part  at  least, 
your  feeling  as  a  mother,  in  so  heartrending  an 
affair  as  this,  and  I  am  doing  my  utmost  to  shorten 
the  suspense  and  horror  of  the  situation  for  you; 
but  you  really  must  have  patience.  Remember 
that  the  picked  men  of  the  detective  squad  of  the 
police  force  are  working  night  and  day,  also,  on 
this  case,  and,  although  many  clues  have  been 
unearthed,  it  is  too  soon  to  expect  anything  defin- 
ite. Such  an  affair  as  this  cannot  be  brought  to 
a  conclusion  in  a  day." 

"I  most  heartily  wish  it  were  not  necessary  for 

185 


186  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

the  police  to  be  concerned — at  least,  until  the  man 
who  killed  my  poor  boy  is  caught!"  returned  the 
elderly  lady,  asperity  struggling  with  grief  in  her 
tones.  "That  Inspector  person — Hanrahan,  I  be- 
lieve his  name  is — called  upon  me  yesterday  after- 
noon, and  asked  me  the  most  preposterous  and 
unbelievably  impertinent  questions  about  Garret 
— quite  as  if  he  suspected  him  of  having  some 
disgraceful  secret  in  his  past!  As  if  my  son  could 
have  any  secret  from  his  mother!  The  man's 
impudence  was  astounding,  and  I  told  him  so, 
and  soon  sent  him  about  his  business!" 

The  detective's  face  relaxed  ever  so  slightly.  He 
could  imagine  the  result  of  Inspector  Hanrahan's 
impolite  visit. 

"It  was  a  terrible  experience,  Mr.  Gaunt;  abso- 
lute torture,  coming,  as  it  did,  immediately  after 
my  poor  son's  burial!" 

"I  read  of  the  funeral  in  the  papers,  this  morn- 
ing," the  detective  remarked. 

"It  was  terrible — terrible!"  she  cried.  "My 
husband  would  have  turned  in  his  grave,  had  he 
known!  The  horrible  crowds,  Mr.  Gaunt — the 
horrible,  gaping,  staring  crowds!  In  spite  of  the 
cordons  of  police,  they  pressed  in  upon  us  on  all 
sides,  turning  our  grief  into  a  sort  of  hideous  public 
holiday!  The  last  service  which  could  be  rendered 
my  poor  boy  was  robbed  of  all  solemnity,  all 
sacredness,  by  that  mob  of  morbid,  heartlessly 
curious  people." 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  187 

"Indeed,  you  have  my  sympathy,  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton.  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  that  you  and  yours 
could  have  been  spared  that;  but  it  is  inevitably 
a  part  of  such  a  tragedy  as  this.  I  am  sure  the 
police  did  all  in  their  power  to  protect  you — '* 

"Perhaps  they  did.  But,  as  to  discovering  the 
murderer  of  my  son,  I  have  no  faith  in  them.  Yates 
and  I  rely  entirely  upon  you." 

"I  trust  that  I  shall  not  disappoint  you.  But, 
Mrs.  Appleton,  I  did  not  come  here  to  distress  or 
annoy  you,  I  assure  you.  A  little  matter  has 
turned  up,  which  I  should  like  some  information 
about.  Mr.  Garret  Appleton's  fortune  was  not 
entirely  in  real  estate,  was  it?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  in  evident  surspise.  "He 
held  stocks  and  bonds,  and  traded  quite  a  little 
in  them,  I  believe." 

"Can  you  tell  me  who  his  brokers  were?" 

"Palmer  and  Leach,  on  Broad  Street." 

"Have  they  been  his  brokers  for  a  long  time?" 

Mrs.  Appleton  paused,  as  if  trying  to  recall  to 
her  memory  that  which  he  had  asked  of  her;  but 
he  detected  a  slight  quickening  of  her  audible 
breathing,  and  the  dry  rustle  of  her  hands  stirring 
in  the  silken  lap  of  her  morning-robe. 

"Really,  I  don't  remember,  exactly.  For  a 
year  or  two  prior  to  his  marriage,  I  think." 

"And,  before  that,  who  were  his  brokers?"  The 
nervous,  annoyed  stirring  became  more  apparent 
in  the  stillness  of  the  room.     "Was  the  firm,  by  any 


188  AT  ONE-THIETY 

chance.  Smith,  Hitchcock  V.  Gregory  ? "  he  per- 
sisted. 

**I — I  believe  it  was!"  came  faintly  from  the 
thin,  compressed  lips. 

"Ah!  A  most  unfortunate  failure!"  commented 
the  detective.  "I  remember  my  secretary  reading 
of  it  to  me,  at  the  time.  There  were  only  two 
members  of  the  firm,  were  there  not — only  the 
man  Smith,  and  Rupert  Hitchcock?  If  my  memory 
serves  me,  the  name  Gregory  was  merely  retained 
to  keep  the  title  of  the  firm  intact.  I  believe  Mr. 
Gregory  died  many  years  ago." 

"Really,  I  cannot  say,"  murmured  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton,  somewhat  coldly.  "I  remember  something 
about  a  failure,  of  course;  but  I  know  very  little 
of  affairs  of  finance." 

"I  trust  your  son  didn't  lose  by  it,"  the  de- 
tective remarked,  and  paused  for  a  moment  before 
continuing.  "It  was  one  of  the  worst  failures 
the  Street  has  ever  known,  and  hundreds  went 
down  in  the  crash." 

**My  son  was  a  very  astute  business  man,  Mr. 
Gaunt,  and  a  very  reticent  one.  If  he  lost  very 
much  in  the  failure  of  the  firm  with  whom  he 
traded,  he  said  nothing  of  it,  to  me  at  least.  He 
seldom  discussed  business  matters  at  home."  Her 
tone  was  flatly  uninterested,  and  there  was  a  note 
of  finality  in  it,  which  Gaunt  recognized. 

He  rose. 

"Palmer  and  Leach,  I  think  you  said,  were  the 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  189 

names  of  the  latest  brokers  with  whom  Mr.  Apple- 
ton  traded?  Thank  you  very  much.  I  will  re- 
member it.  .  .  .  Good-morning.  I  will  report  to 
you  as  soon  as  anything  definite  is  discovered." 

Mrs.  Appleton  gave  him  a  limp  handshake,  and 
he  departed,  returning  at  once  to  his  rooms,  where 
he  found  Miss  Barnes  awaiting  him.  As  Jenkins 
relieved  him  of  his  coat  and  hat,  he  asked  his 
secretary  to  get  him  a  number  on  the  telephone. 
It  was  that  of  a  man,  although  not  a  financier  him- 
self, who  was  probably  the  most  cordially  detested 
and  feared  of  any  man  connected  with  Wall  Street. 
Purporting  to  be  the  editor  of  a  so-called  finan- 
cial news-sheet,  Jerome  Wetmore  was  in  reality 
a  spy,  who  managed  in  some  seemingly  inexplic- 
able manner  to  become  possessed  of  the  secret 
plans  and  operations  of  the  biggest  men  on  the 
Exchange,  and  who  used  them  for  his  own  private 
ends,  in  a  subtle  way,  which  succeeded  in  keeping 
him  out  of  the  hands  of  the  police,  or  shared  them 
with  others,  at  a  price.  No  one  knew  the  extent 
of  his  resources,  or  the  number  or  identity  of  his 
hirelings  in  the  offices  of  different  magnates;  but 
that  they  existed  was  undoubted.  On  whatever  > 
questionable  enterprise  he  was  engaged,  however,  * 
one  thing  was  certain.  The  man  was  a  walking 
chronology  of  events  in  the  financial  world,  and  as 
such  he  had  not  infrequently  been  of  use  to  Gaunt. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Wetmore!     This  is  Gaunt — Damon 
Gaunt,"  the  detective  announced.     "Have  you  a 


190  AT  ONE-THIETY 

few  minutes  to  spare  for  me?  I  want  some  in- 
formation." 

"Surest  thing  you  know!"  came  in  short,  quick 
accents  over  the  *phone.  "Always  time  for  you, 
:  Gaunt.     What  is  it.?" 

"Can  you  reply  freely,  without  fear  of  being 
overheard — mention  names  if  necessary?"  Gaunt 
asked,  cautiously. 

There  was  a  chuckle  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire. 

"I  should — hope  so!  This  office  is  a  padded 
cell.  If  it  weren't,  I  might  have  been  a  fit  sub- 
ject for  you,  long  ago!"  Mr.  Wetmore  returned, 
frankly.  Then  he  added:  "What  can  I  do  for 
you."^ 

"Tell  me  all  you  can  of  the  Smith,  Hitchcock 
V.  Gregory  failure,  four  years  ago." 

A  low  whistle  sounded  in  the  detective's  ear. 

"Now  you're  talkin'!  Whatever  started  you  on 
that?     Wait  a  minute — hold  the  wire." 

There  was  a  faint  resounding  jar,  as  of  the  re- 
ceiver being  hastily  thumped  down  upon  the  desk, 
and  then  silence,  while  the  detective  waited  pa- 
tiently. At  length,  when  several  minutes  had  passed, 
^  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  informant  again: 

"You  there.  Gaunt?" 

"Yes." 

"I  looked  it  up,  to  be  sure  of  the  facts.  There 
wasn't  any  Gregory  in  the  firm;  only  Smith  and 
Hitchcock.  Gregory'd  been  dead  fifteen  years. 
They  failed  four  years  ago  next  January,  on  the 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  191 

twenty-seventh,  for  seventeen  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  in  round  figures.  Only  four  hundred 
thousand  was  recovered,  or  could  be  accounted 
for.  Smith  showed  a  clean  sheet.  He'd  been  a 
very  sick  man,  and  had  traveled  in  Europe  for 
eight  months  prior  to  the  failure,  leaving  every- 
thing in  his  partner's  hands,  and  the  books  of  the 
firm  were  straight  as  a  string  up  to  his  departure. 
Of  course,  he  was  technically  guilty  with  his  partner, 
Hitchcock,  of  the  misappropriation  of  funds,  and 
all  that;  but  he  came  home  at  once  when  the  failure 
was  announced,  and  made  what  restitution  he 
could.  He  and  his  wife  put  every  dollar  they  had 
in  the  world  into  the  hands  of  the  receivers — coun- 
try place,  town  house,  automobiles,  his  wife's 
jewels,  even  her  heirlooms,  wedding-presents,  and 
her  own  little  private  fortune,  which  she'd  had 
before  they  were  married.  In  view  of  that,  and 
the  fact  that  the  doctor  and  nurses,  who'd  traveled 
with  him,  testified  that  he'd  been  permitted,  be- 
cause of  the  state  of  his  health,  to  receive  no  busi- 
ness letters  or  cables  while  in  Europe,  not  even  to 
glance  at  a  newspaper,  his  lawyers  got  him  off  in 
some  way — released  on  his  own  recognizance,  or 
something  like  that.  Clever  lawyers  he  had, 
Reilly  and  Fitzhugh.  I  guess  his  physical  condi- 
tion had  something  to  do  with  it,  too — he  wouldn't 
have  lasted  two  months  behind  bars,  A  lot  of 
sympathy  was  expressed  for  him.  A  man  can't 
start  life  over   again  at   his   age,  with    death  star- 


192  AT  ONE-THIETY 

ing  him  in  the  face,  and  not  a  cent  to  fall  back 
on." 

He  paused,  and  a  faint  rustle  of  papers  sounded 
in  the  detective's  ears,  as  if  Mr.  Wetmore  was 
looking  up  fresh  data. 

"Do  you  know  what  became  of  him?"  Gaunt 
asked. 

"Can't  say  positively.  He  dropped  out  of  sight; 
but  I  heard  somewhere  that  his  friends  helped  him 
temporarily.  The  police  must  have  kept  track 
of  him,  to  see  if  by  any  chance  he  unearthed  any 
of  that  million,  or  more,  that  disappeared  at  the 
time  of  the  failure.  But  I  guess  he  was  straight 
enough;  for,  the  last  I  heard,  he  and  his  wife  were 
living  in  sheer  poverty,  somewhere  in  Jersey. 
So  much  for  him.  You  know,  yourself,  about  the 
other  one,  Hitchcock,  don't  you  ? " 

"Convicted  and  sent  to  prison,  wasn't  he?" 
The  detective's  voice  was  a  triumph  of  studied 
carelessness. 

"Yes,  for  seven  years.  But  I  read  in  the  paper 
the  other  day  that  he'd  been  pardoned,  because 
of  his  health.  Haven't  heard  anything  of  him, 
though.  'Tisn't  likely  he'd  show  up  down  here, 
any  way.  I've  got  a  list  here  of  their  biggest 
customers:  Bender,  Matthews,  Samuelson,  Houck 
— I'll  send  it  up  to  you." 

"Thanks,  I  wish  you  would."  Gaunt  prepared 
to  add  a  phrase  in  pursuance  of  his  line  of  thought, 
when  a  yell  of  amazement  over  the  wire  cut  him  short. 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  193 

**Say!  Look  here!  That  chap  who  was  murdered 
the  other  day,  Garret  Appleton,  was  one  of  their 
heaviest  traders!  What  do  you  know  about  that?" 
And  then,  before  the  detective  could  speak.  Wet- 
more  added,  in  mounting  excitement:  "I  read  in 
the  papers  that  you  were  on  that  case,  Gaunt!  I 
believe  that's  why  you  called  me  up!  What's 
the  connection,  anyway?  By  Gad!  anything 
to  do  with  Hitchcock  getting  out  of  Sing  Sing  just 
at  the  same  time?     What  the  dev — " 

"No — no!"  Gaunt  laughed  easily.  **You*re  way 
off,  Mr.  Wetmore.  It's  true  enough  that  I'm 
handling  the  Appleton  affair — or  trying  to — but 
I've  got  a  lot  more  on  hand,  besides.  Some  of  them 
are  civil  cases — financial,  you  know.  I  wanted 
the  inside  details  of  the  Smith,  Hitchcock  V.  Gregory 
failure  purely  as  a  side  issue  on  one  of  them. 
By  the  way,  did  you  know  either  of  the  two  re- 
maining partners?" 

"Knew  'em  both — Smith  better  than  Hitchcock, 
though." 

"What  was  Hitchcock  like?" 

"Little,  fat  man,  about  forty-five;  dressed  like 
a  sport;  high  liver,  good  fellow — ^you  know  the 
type.  Widower  with  one  son  at  college,  when 
the  crash  came." 

"And  Smith?" 

"Oh,  Smith  was  just  the  opposite.  Tall  and 
grave  and  dignified;  no  sport  at  all;  director  in 
a    lot   of  banks,    vestryman   of   the   church — that 


194  AT  ONE-THIETY 

sort.  He  had  a  funny  walk,  come  to  think  of  it. 
Dragged  one  foot  behind  him — hurt  in  a  runaway 
accident,  I  believe." 

**What  was  his  full  name?  Oh,  but,  of  course, 
I  can  look  that  up.  I  needn't  take  any  more  of 
your  time,  Mr.  Wetmore." 

"That's  all  right;  I  know  it  Hke  my  own.  It 
was  James  Arbuckle  Smith." 

**Thanks  very  much.  I'm  glad  you  could  give 
me  the  details.  It's  saved  me  a  lot  of  time;  although 
I'm  afraid  it's  taken  yours.  .  .  .  By  the  way, 
Mr.  Wetmore,  why  don't  you  have  that  office 
clock  of  yours  fixed?" 

**  Clock !     What's  the  matter  with  it  ? " 

"I  just  heard  it  strike  eleven,  and  it  isn't  a  quar- 
ter of  the  hour  yet,  for  my  own  clock  here  on  the 
mantel  always  whirs  at  the  quarters." 

"You're  too  sharp  for  me.  Gaunt.  I'm  glad 
you're  not  working  on  a  case  against  me.  Let  me 
know  when  you  are  going  to  start  investigating 
me,  and  I'll  take  to  the  woods." 

Both  men  laughed,  and  Gaunt  called: 

"Well,  don't  forget  to  send  me  that  list  of  the 
firm's  customers.  .  .  .  Good-by."  And  he  reso- 
lutely hung  up  the  receiver. 

"Miss  Barnes,"  he  continued,  turning  to  his 
secretary,  "there's  a  pile  of  letters  there — nothing 
important,  I  think;  but  you'd  better  answer  them 
today,  please.  I've  got  to  take  a  run  out  in  th« 
country." 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  195 

He  pressed  the  bell,  and,  when  Jenkins  appeared, 
asked: 

"Is  Saunders  waiting  outside  with  the  car?" 

•'Yes,  sir." 

"Get  my  coat  and  hat,  and  tell  the  cook  to  put 
up  a  lunch  for  Saunders  and  me,  with  hot  coffee 
in  the  vacuum  bottle,  right  away." 

In  a  few  moments,  the  simple  preparations  were 
made,  and  they  started  down-town,  headed  for  the 
Battery  and  the  Staten  Island  Ferry.  Gaunt 
wished  to  take  the  same  route  as  Garret  Apple- 
ton  had,  in  his  nocturnal  visit  of  three  weeks  be- 
fore, to  that  little  farm-house  near  New  Bruns- 
wick. Saunders  knew  the  roads  well,  and  they 
skimmed  through  Staten  Island,  then  over  the 
ferry  to  Perth  Amboy.  Out  in  the  real  country 
once  more,  they  paused  by  the  roadside,  master 
and  man,  and  ate  their  luncheon  together  witb 
great  satisfaction.  Then  on  again,  until  they 
passed  through  the  sleepy  little  village  of  Metuchen 
and  beyond  its  farther  outskirts. 

"Go  on  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  then  stop  at 
the  first  house,  and  ask  if  the  people  within  know 
wher^  the  Smiths  Hved — the  James  A.  Smiths. 
If  they  can't  tell  you,  drive  on  another  quarter  of 
a  mile,  and  ask  again.  Keep  on  asking  until 
you  find  someone  who  can  tell  you.    Then  go  there."' 

"Very  good,  sir." 

From  the  third  house,  Saunders  emerged  triuni-i 
phant. 


196  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"It's  a  half-mile  down  the  road,  sir;  the  fifth 
house  from  here  on  the  left?'* 

*'A11  right.     Go  ahead."       ' 

Saunders  drove  slowly,  and  finally  brought  the 
car  to  a  stop. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  said,  rather  doubtfully,  "I'm 
sure  this  is  the  house  the  man  told  me.  I  counted 
straight,  coming  along.  But  it  can't  be,  because 
its  all  closed  up,  and  looks  deserted." 

"That  is  the  house,  I  think.  What  is  on  each 
side  of  it?" 

"Corn-field  on  the  left,  and  a  big  white  farm- 
house, with  red  barns  and  stables  set  away  back 
from  the  road,  on  the  right.  'Cross  the  way, 
nothin'  but  cow-pasture  an'  fields,  where  rows  of 
somethin'  green's  been  growin',  as  far  as  you  can 
see."  Saunders'  lack  of  enthusiasm  over  a  bucolic 
existence  was  evidenced  by  the  tone  in  which  he 
delivered  his  description. 

"What  is  the  farm-house  like — the  one  right 
here,  which  is  closed  up,  I  mean?" 

"It's  awful  little,  but  real  cozy-lookin',"  Saunders 
remarked  critically,  surveying  it.  "The  yard  is 
full  of  flowers,  and  the  house  has  been  repainted 
lately.  There's  a  little  bit  of  a  stable,  back — 
you  could  hardly  get  the  car  in  it — and  a  vegetable 
garden  and  two  hen-houses.     That's  about  all." 

"Drive  up  to  the  big  farm,  now;  the  one  with 
the  red  barns." 

Saunders  obeyed,  and  they  were  greeted  at  the 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  197 

door  by  a  stout,  good-natured  woman,  who  vigor- 
ously silenced  the  dogs'  clamor  by  assaiHng 
them  with  the  broom. 

"The  men-folks  is  all  out  in  the  fields,  gittin* 
in  the  pumpkins  an'  winter  beets.  We're  reel  late 
with  it;  but  we've  been  dretful  short-handed  this 
fall,  an'  thank  goodness  there  ain't  be'n  what  you 
might  call  an  honest  frost,  yet!"  she  rattled  off, 
volubly.  Then  drawing  a  fresh  breath,  she  asked: 
"Who  air  you  wantin'  to  see?" 
'  "The  owner  of  that  little  farm-house  down  there," 
Gaunt  replied,  pointing  vaguely  in  the  direction 
from  which  they  had  come. 

"Silas  owns  it — my  husband.  I'm  Mrs.  Horner. 
Won't  you  git  out,  an'  set  awhile?"  The  good 
woman  bustled  about,  setting  chairs  on  the  Httle 
porch,  and  emitting  an  uninterrupted  flow  of  words 
as  she  did  so.  "I'm  reel  sorry  about  the  house; 
but  we  can't  let  it.  'Twouldn't  be  right.  The 
folks  that  had  it  have  got  a  lease  on  it,  all  paid  up 
in  advance  for  some  months  to  come,  an',  though 
they've  gone  away,  they  may  come  back,  any 
time.  They've  left  all  their  furniture  in  it,  an' 
put  lots  of  improvements  besides."  ' 

Saunders  helped  his  employer  from  the  machine, 
and  guided  him  to  a  chair;  then,  turning  to  the 
woman,  he  laid  his  hands  across  his  eyes  for  a 
moment,  significantly.  She  nodded  in  quick,  com- 
passionate comprehension,  and  disappeared  sud- 
denly into  the  house,  to  reappear  almost  at  once 


198  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

with  a  tray,  on  which  were  two  glasses  and  a  brim- 
ming pitcher  of  buttermilk. 

"Thought  you  might  be  thirsty  after  your 
ride,"  she  remarked  hospitably,  as  she  poured  out 
a  glassful,  and  thrust  it  into  Gaunt's  hand,  then 
turned  with  the  tray  to  the  grinning  Saunders. 

"You  look  's  if  you'd  come  a  good  ways.  I 
was  out  in  one  of  them  sky-hootin'  things  once — 
but  not  any  more!  We  went  over  a  thank-you- 
ma'am  the  driver  wasn't  expectin' — we  bounced 
right  up  in  the  air!  Silas  came  down  on  his  thumb, 
an'  sprained  it,  an'  I  bit  my  tongue  clear  through. 
.  .  .  But  about  the  house — " 

*  This  buttermilk  is  delicious,"  remarked  Gaunt, 
wb.)  loathed  it.  "It  was  kind  of  you  to  think  of 
it,  Mrs.  Horner." 

'I  just  made  butter  this  mornin,"  she  remarked.. 
**Dut  my  cows  ain't  doin'  so  well  this  fall — " 

"About  the  house,"  the  detective  interrupted,, 
doggedly.  "A  man  and  his  wife  named  Smith 
lived  there,  didn't  they?" 

"Yes.  I  declare  you're  the  third  party  in  three 
days  that's  been  here  askin'  about  them  Smiths! 
It's  them  you  want  to  know  about,  an'  not  the 
house,  a-tall!" 

"It  is,  Mrs.  Horner,"  Gaunt  acknowledged 
frankly,  with  his  winning  smile.  "My  interest 
in  them  is  a  friendly  one.  I  think  I  knew  them 
years  ago,  and  I  wanted  to  find  them  again.  Was 
the  name  James  A.  Smith?" 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  199 

"Them's  the  very  people,  I  expect!"  she  ex- 
claimed, her  risen  suspicious  quelled,  as  much  by 
his  manner  as  his  words. 

"Was  Mr.  Smith  tall  and  thin,  and  did  he  walk 
a  little  lame,  sort  of  dragging  one  foot  behind 
him?"   the  detective  continued. 

Mrs.  Horner  nodded  vigorously. 

"That's  him!  An'  Mis'  Smith  was  kinder  sickly, 
:n'  wore  a  false  front  that  a  child  could  see  through." 
""Yes,  yes!"  Gaunt  cried  hastily,  while  Saunders 
turned  respectfully  away,  and  began  to  examine 
his  tires  with  a  great  show  of  interest,  his  shoulders 
shaking.  "They  are  the  people  I  am  looking  for. 
I  can't  imagine  why  they  went  away,  or  where." 

"No  more  can  Silas  an'  me,"  returned  the  hostess. 
**Goin'  off  sudden  like  that,  an'  leavin'  no  address — 
though,  to  be  sure,  they  didn't  have  no  mail  once 
in  a  dog's  age.  We  didn't  know  they  was  thinkin* 
of  it  till  the  day  before  they  left,  when  Mr.  Smith 
come  up  and  asked  Silas  'bout  a.  wagon  to  take 
them  an'  their  trunks  to  the  station.  When  I 
went  down  to  take  her  the  even's  milk — they 
bought  eggs  an'  milk  an'  butter  an'  chickens  from 
us,  an'  hams  an'  sausage-meat  in  the  fall — I 
asked  Mis'  Smith  where  they  was  goin'  an'  when 
they'd  be  home  again,  an'  all  she  said  was:  *  We've 
been  called  away  suddenly.  I  don't  know  yet 
when  we'll  be  back.'  Their  trunks  was  checked 
through  to  New  York,  Silas  says,  an'  all  the  way 
to    the    station    Mis'    Smith    kep*    worryin'    'bout 


200  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

missin*  the  train,  an'  her  husband  tryin'  to  quiet 
her.  *We  ought  to  have  started  earher,'  Silas 
says  she  kep'  sayin'.  *You  know,  James,  what's 
at  stake!  If  we  don't  catch  this  train,  we  may 
miss  the  steamer.  So  I  guess  they  was  goin' 
somewheres  by  boat  from  New  York,  most  Hkely." 

"When  did  they  leave?"     Gaunt  asked. 

*'Two  weeks  ago  last  Wednesday,  on  the  eight 
o'clock  train." 

;  "It  seems  strange,"  the  detective  commented. 
**How  long  have  they  been  living  here.''  I  lost 
track  of  them  a  good  while  ago." 

"Goin'  on  four  years." 

"Did  they  have  many  visitors?" 

"No.  Mis*  Smith's  two  sisters  came  out  from 
the  city  once  in  a  great  while,  an'  twice  in  the  last 
few  months,  a  man  come  out  in  a  big  automobile, 
like  your'n,  to  see  Mr.  Smith." 

"When  was  the  last  time  he  came?" 

"Just  a  week  before  they  left.  I  guess  they 
was  city  folks  themselves,  afore  they  come  out 
here;  for  they  didn't  know  much  about  the  coun- 
try, leastways  livin'  like  this.  Seems  's  if  they 
must  've  been  reel  wealthy,  an'  lost  their  money; 
for  Mis'  Smith  didn't  know  a  thing  about  house- 
work, an'  never  could  learn,  no  more  than  Mr. 
Smith  could  do  gardenin'.  My  niece,  Ellen  Louise 
—that's  over  to  Trenton  now,  takin'  a  course  in  a 
business  college — used  to  run  down  every  day, 
an*   clean   up,   an'   cook   their  dinner   for  'em,  an* 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  201 

they  had  one  of  Silas's  hired  hands  twice  a  week 
to  look  after  their  vegetable  garden.  Mis'  Smith 
learned,  though,  to  tend  her  flowers  reel  nice,  an* 
she  loved  'em." 

**You  love  them,  too,  don't  you,  Mrs.  Horner? 
But  let  me  tell  you  that  your  phlox  would  be 
hardier  if  you  would  plant  a  purple  and  white 
together  in  one  clump,  instead  of  separating  it  with 
dahlias  and  asters." 

"Good  land!"  Mrs.  Horner  pushed  back  her 
chair,  and  stared  at  him.     "I — I  thought — " 

"And  your  path  is  bordered  with  them.  I 
could  not  help  smelling  them  as  I  came  up  from  my 
car.  .  .  .  But  tell  me,  Mrs.  Horner,  you  say  the 
Smith's  put  improvements  in  the  house?" 

"Yes.  For  all  they  lived  so  simple  an'  plain, 
just  like  us,  they  seemed  to  hev  money  to  spend 
on  anything  they  wanted.  They  put  a  bath- 
room in  when  they  first  come,  an'  a  little  engine 
in  the  cellar  to  pump  water  up  to  the  tank,  an* 
enlarged  the  porch.  Las'  spring  they  painted 
the  house.  Mis'  Smith  had  a  lovely  pianner, 
an'  she  played  beautiful,  an'  they  had  more  books 
than  a  body  could  read  in  a  life  time.  They  bought 
a  horse  an'  rig,  too;  but  they  sold  it  back  to  Jed 
Williamson,  three  days  before  they  left.  We 
might  'a'  knowed  from  that  they  was  goin'  away! 
They  was  queer  in  some  ways,  too;  never  went 
to  church,  or  mixed-up  in  village  doin's,  but  jus* 
kep'    by    themselves.     Mis'    Smith    wasn't    satis- 


202  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

fied,    either.     Ellen    Louise    says    she   was    always 
Gomplainin'  to  Mr.  Smith." 

"Complaining?  About  what?"  asked  the  detec- 
tive. 

"About  the  way  they  was  livin'.  Seems  's  if 
they  was  waitin'  for  somethin'.  Mis'  Smith  used 
to  say,  'The  time  seemed  so  long,  an'  'Would  it 
ever  end?'  an'  'Was  it  worth  it?'  Mr.  Smith 
was  reel  patient  with  her,  Ellen  Louise  says.  He'd 
say  they  had  to  lie  low,  an'  did  she  want  to  see  him 
in  somebody's  shoes? — Ellen  Louise  couldn't  catch 
the  name — an'  it  wouldn't  be  long  now,  before 
everythin'  would  be  all  right.  .  .  .  Queer,  ain't 
it?" 

"It  certainly  is.  I  cannot  understand  it,"  Gaunt 
replied,  mendaciously.  He  rose  as  he  spoke. 
"Well,  Mrs.  Horner,  I  must  be  getting  back  to  the 
city.  I'm  sorry  not  to  have  seen — James.  When 
they  come  back,  tell  them  that  Mr.  Baylis — John 
Baylis — was  here,  won't  you?  And  thank  you 
for  your  hospitality." 

The  dogs  had  gathered  about  the  car,  and  were 
vociferating  their  enthusiastic  farewells. 

"You  have  three  large  dogs  and  one  small  one, 
haven't  you,  Mrs.  Horner?  I  should  think  that 
great  Dane  would  make  a  mouthful  of  the  pup." 

"No,  they  get  on  reel  well.  But  how  in  crea- 
tion you  know,  Mr.  Baylis,  beats  me." 

"I  can  tell  very  easily  by  their  bark,  Mrs.  Horner. 
Did  you  ever  notice  that  the  smaller  the  dog  is. 


DEVIOUS  WAYS  203 

the  more  high-keyed  are  its  tones?  I  can  tell  most 
breeds  of  dogs  by  their  bark — not  only  their  tones, 
but  their  manner  of  barking;  yapping,  or  baying, 
or  deep  growls  or  Httle,  sharp,  hysterical  snaps. 
All  except  mongrels,  of  course.  .  .  .  Well,  good- 
day,  Mrs.  Horner." 

"Good-day,  Mr.  Baylis.  You'll  come  back  when 
the  Smiths  do?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  Gaunt  answered,  with  a  slight 
smile,   "I  will  come  back  when  the  Smiths  do." 

Saunders  had  already  cranked  up  the  car,  and 
now  assisted  Gaunt  to  it,  while  Mrs.  Horner  followed 
them,  with  cordial  invitations  to  return. 

On  the  way  home,  Gaunt  thought:  "I  must 
have  Miss  Barnes  look  up  the  steamers,  and  see 
which  ones  left  on  Wednesday,  a  fortnight  ago, 
at  noon  or  after,  and  their  destination.  .  .  .  So, 
that  end  of  the  string  finishes  in — a  knot!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    END    OF   A    FALSE    SCENT 

THE  SULTANIC  sailed  at  noon  on  the  ninth, 
for  Plymouth,  Cherbourg,  and  Southamp- 
ton; the  Prinzessin  Clotilde^  at  three  in 
the  afternoon  for  the  Mediterranean;  the  Saxonia 
for  Panama,  the  West  Indies,  and  South  America, 
at  four,"  Miss  Barnes  announced,  in  precise  tones, 
the  next  morning. 

"Humph!"  Gaunt  remarked.  "They  know  Eu- 
rope best;  but  they'd  scarcely  dare  England  or 
France,  just  yet.  The  Mediterranean — Algiers — 
Miss  Barnes,  please  call  up  the  South  German 
Lloyd  Line,  and  get  the  ticket-agent  on  the  wire. 
There's  a  chance,  of  course,  that  they  bought  their 
tickets  through  an  agency;  but  their  names  would 
be  on  the  private  record,  if  not  on  the  published 
passenger-list,  even  if  they  purchased  their  tickets 
at  the  very  last  moment,  which  doesn't  seem 
likely,  from  Mrs.  Smith's  remarks  on  the  way  to 
the  station.  If  I  cannot  get  a  positive  description 
of  them,  I  must  wait  until  the  Prinzessin  Clotilde 
docks  here  again." 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  thinking  aloud  to  Miss 

204 


THE  END  OF  A  FALSE  SCENT  205 

Barnes,  who  went  composedly  about  her  busi- 
ness, and  evidenced  not  the  slightest  inclination 
of  having  heard,  or  paid  any  attention.  Now, 
she  put  the  receiver  down  upon  the  desk  at  his 
hand. 

"There  you  are,  Mr.  Gaunt.  The  ticket-agent 
is  on  the  wire." 

"I  should  like  to  know,  please,  if  a  man  and 
his  wife  sailed  on  the  Prinzessin  Clotilde,  two  weeks 
ago  last  Wednesday,  whose  initials  were  J.  A.  S." 

"Just  a  moment,  please." 

A  pause;  and  then  the  same  voice  came  over 
the  wire: 

"No,  sir." 

"You  are  sure?" 

"Perfectly  sure.  The  sailing-list  was  small.  It's 
early  yet  for  the  rush  to  the  southern  part  of  Europe, 
and  not  a  ticket  was  sold  too  late  to  get  the  name 
on  the  published  list." 

"Thank  you.  .  .  .  Good-by." 

Gaunt  proceeded  to  call  up  the  Blue  Star  Line, 
and  got  the  ticket-agent,  to  whom  he  put  the  same 
question. 

This  time  the  answer  was  a  different  one: 

"Yes,  sir.  Judson  A.  Smiley  and  wife  sailed 
on  the  Saxonia,  on  the  ninth,  for  Cayenne,  French 
Guiana,  first  class." 

"Thank  you.  There  are  the  people  I  was  look- 
ing, for  I  think;  but  I  should  like  to  be  sure.     Did 


206  AT  ONE-THIETY 

you,  by  any  chance,  sell  them  their  tickets?  But, 
of  course,  you  would  scarcely  remember.  *' 

"Oh,  I  remember  them  all  right.  Mr.  Smiley 
wrote  from  New  Brunswick,  New  Jersey,  inclosing 
the  money  for  the  tickets  in  bills,  not  a  check,  or 
money-order.  I  remember  particularly,  because  he 
told  me  to  send  no  reply,  that  they  would  call  for 
the  tickets  the  morning  of  the  day  the  steamer 
sailed.  And  they  did,  too,  about  noon.  An  oldish 
couple,  and  the  man  limped.  Think  they're  your 
friends?" 

"I'm  sure  of  it.     Thank  you.  .  .  .  Good-by.'* 

French  Guiana!  Somewhere,  in  one  of  the  few 
remaining  non-extradition  states  of  Central  Amer- 
ica, the  couple  were  hiding  themselves  with  part 
of  the  money  Smith  had  managed,  somehow,  to 
get  his  hands  on  at  the  time  of  the  failure.  Even 
though  Mrs.  Smith  connived  at  her  husband's 
guilt,  even  though  she  was  a  sharer  in  the  profits 
accruing  from  his  treachery,  the  detective  pitied 
her. 

She  had  been  discontented  in  her  quiet,  modest 
home  in  America.  What  was  in  store  for  her  in  her 
future  life  among  the  outcasts  of  civilization? 
Their  previous  intention  was  plain  to  him.  They 
had  fancied  themselves  safe  for  seven  years,  while 
the  partner,  who  had  been  the  scapegoat,  was  in 
prison.  They  knew  he  would  not  speak,  that  he 
expected  to  share  the  plunder  on  his  release.     Their 


THE  END  OF  A  FALSE  SCENT  207 

intention  had  been  to  live  quietly,  in  ostentatious 
poverty,  within  easy  reach  of  the  law,  until  all 
suspicion  that  they  had  received  any  share  of  the  lost 
seventeen  hundred  thousand  dollars  was  past  and 
the  whole  affair  forgotten.  Then  they  had  meant 
to  go  quietly  to  Europe,  and  live  out  the  remainder 
of  their  lives  in  peace  and  plenty. 

But  the  unexpected  and  premature  pardon  of 
Hkchcock  had  upset  their  well-planned  scheme, 
and  they  had  been  forced  to  flee  the  country. 
Hitchcock  himself  had  served  his  time.  He  had 
nothing  more  to  fear  from  the  world,  and,  when  he 
found  that  he  had  been  swindled  out  of  his  share  of 
the  proceeds  of  the  fraudulent  transaction,  he  would 
inevitably  have  revenged  himself  upon  his  partner, 
who  had  been  equally  guilty,  by  betraying  him. 

The  detective  was  beginning  to  see  to  the  end  of 
this  branch  of  his  investigation.  That  the  Smiths 
had  in  their  possession  only  a  part  of  the  money 
never  accounted  for,  he  felt  convinced,  and  he  felt 
equally  sure  that  he  knew  who  it  was  that  had 
held  the  greater  portion  within  his  grasp. 

Gaunt  reached  his  rooms  in  New  York,  late  in 
the  afternoon,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  call  up  the 
district  attorney,  who  was,  fortunately,  an  old 
friend  and  confrere  of  his. 

"I  say,  I  want  to  know  something.  My  secre- 
tary read  an  article  in  the  newspaper  the  other 
day,  which  rather  interested  me.     I  am  on  a  pri- 


208  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

vate  case,  which  goes  back  indirectly  to  that  Smith, 
Hitchcock  V.  Gregory  crash,  in  Wall  Street,  four 
years  ago.  I  hear  that  Hitchcock  was  pardoned, 
last  week,  and  is  now  at  Hberty." 

"Not  pardoned.  Gaunt,  paroled." 

"Oh,  then  of  course,  you  know  where  he  is.?" 

"Oh,  it's  no  secret.  Only,  I  suppose  the  poor 
devil  wouldn't  want  the  papers  to  find  out  his 
whereabouts  just  yet,  and  send  a  horde  of  reporters 
to  worry  him.  In  anticipation  of  his  release,  his 
son  brought  a  small  place  down  near  Hempstead, 
Long  Island,  and  took  his  father  there  at  once.'.' 

"And  he  is  there  now?"  Gaunt  asked',  and 
smiled  rather  grimly  at  the  district  attorney's 
reply. 

[  "Of  course.  He  hasn't  left  there  since  he  was 
released,  a  week  ago.  I  guess  he  is  only  too  glad 
of  a  chance  to  hide  for  awhile,  and  rest  until  he 
"".an  get  his  nerve  back." 

"All  right.     Thanks,  old  man.  .  .  .  Good-by." 

He  turned  to  Miss  Burns. 

"Will  you  please  call  up  information,  and  ask 
if  Rupert  Hitchcock,  Junior,  has  a  telephone, 
and,  if  so,  put  me  on  the  wire." 

There  was  a  few  minutes'  pause,  and  then  Miss 
Barnes  announced: 

"Central  says  they  have  a  telephone;  but  thejr 
don't  answer." 

"Ask  her  to  keep  ringing  them,  please." 


THE  END  OF  A  FALSE  SCENT      209 

A  long  twenty  minutes  ensued,  and  still  there 
was  no  reply.     At  last,  Miss  Barnes  said: 

"Central  says  they  don't  want  to  answer — that 
they  have  taken  the  receiver  off  the  hook  and 
left  the  'phone  open." 

Gaunt  sighed.  He  had  had  enough  of  motor- 
ing for  that  day,  and  his  sightless  eyes  pained 
from  the  sting  of  the  wind,  mild  as  it  had  been; 
but  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

"Please  telephone  for  Saunders;  I'll  have  to 
use  him  again." 

Once  more  they  proceeded  down-town,  at  a 
fast  clip,  got  another  ferry — this  time  to  Long 
Island — and  were  soon  speeding  out  on  the  turn- 
pike. The  early  autumn  darkness  had  long  since 
fallen,  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty,  and  after 
several  inquiries,  that  they  found  the  house  which 
they  sought — a  modest  dwelling,  set  well  back 
from  the  street,  behind  a  clump  of  screening  elms. 

Saunders  guided  the  detective  up  the  steps,  and, 
after  repeated  and  insistent  ringing  at  the  bell, 
the  door  was  at  length  opened  an  inch  or  two, 
and  a  man's  voice — a  young  voice — asked  cau- 
tiously : 

"What  is  it  you  wish?" 

"I  am  Mr.  Gaunt — Damon  Gaunt.  If  I  am 
right  in  thinking  that  I  am  speaking  to  the  son 
of  Rupert  Hitchcock,  please  tell  him  that  I  should 
like  to  see  him,  for  a  moment." 


210  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"I  am  sorry — that  will  be  impossible — " 

And  the  door  began  to  close.  Gaunt  heard  it 
creak,  and  put  his  hand  against  the  casing. 

**I  am  absolutely  not  connected  with  the  news- 
papers, or  police  department.  I  have  news  for 
your  father,  which  I  am  sure  will  be  of  great 
interest  to  him,  and  I  may  be  able  to  save  him 
much  notoriety  and  some  trouble." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  the  voice  said: 
■    **Wait  just  a  moment,  please." 

This  time  Gaunt  allowed  the  other  to  close 
the  door  very  gently,  and,  after  a  few  minutes, 
returning  steps  were  heard,  and  the  door  opened 
a  little  farther. 

"Who  is  that  with  you,  please,  Mr.  Gaunt?'* 

"My  chauffeur.  .  .  .  Saunders,  go  back  and 
wait  in  the  car." 

Saunders  'retreated,  and  the  young  man  opened 
the  door  wide. 

"Come  in,"  he  said.  "You  see,  we  accept  your 
word  that  you  are  not  connected  with  the  press. 
From  the  police,  my  father  has  nothing  to  fear." 

Gaunt  hesitated  and  smiled  a  little,  as  he  said, 
simply: 

"You  will  have  to  guide  me,  Mr.  Hitchcock. 
I  am  blind." 

"Ah!  I  did  not  know,  of  course.  You  will 
pardon  me.  Come  this  way. — He  led  him  across 
a  narrow  hall,  and  into  a  room  in  which  an  open 


THE  END  OF  A  FALSE  SCENT  211 

wood  fire  was  burning.  Gaunt  could  hear  its 
cheery  crackle,  and  feel  the  welcome  warmth^ 
for,  with  nightfall,  the  weather  had  sharpened, 
and  the  drive  out  had  been  an  uncomfortably 
cold  one. 

Young  Mr.  Hitchcock  pulled  a  soft  leather  chair 
within  the  detective's  reach,  saying: 

"My  father  will  be  with  you  in  a  moment." 
He  left  the  room,  and  Gaunt  seated  himself,  and 
held  out  his  hands  to  the  blaze  before  him.  The 
coming  interview  might  prove  to  be  an  extremely 
difficult  one,  should  the  ex-financier  prove  reti- 
cent; but  the  detective  thought  that  he  had  hit 
upon  a  method  of  inducing  him  to  open  his  lips. 

Presently,  there  was  the  patter  of  short,  rhythmic 
steps  behind  him,  and  a  nervously  trembling  voice 
asked: 

"You  are  Mr.  Gaunt,  the  detective,  are  you  not? 
I  have  heard  of  you,  of  course.  My  son  tells  me 
that  you  have  news  for  me.  I  am  Rupert  Hitch- 
cock." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Hitchcock,  I  have  news  for  you; 
but  it  may  only  be  a  confirmation  of  what  you 
already  know.  I  do  not  know  if  you  have  learned 
that  I  am  investigating  the  death  of  Garret  Apple- 
ton.  In  the  course  of  my  work,  I  came  upon 
the  fact  of  his  conference  with  you,  on  Monday 
afternoon,  near  the  Rocky  Point  Inn,  and  so,  I 
am  bound  to  tell  you,  did  the  police." 


212  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"The  police  have  done  thei-  worst  to  me — the 
law  has  taken  its  pound  of  flesh!  As  you  must 
know,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
them." 

"If  you  can  prove  an  alibi,**  the  detective  sug- 
gested, quietly. 

The  other  man  started  nervously. 

"An  alibi!"  he  stammered. 

"For  the  night  following  your  interview — -the 
night  of  Mr.  Appleton's  murder." 

"Oh,  I  can  do  that,  of  course,  if  necessary,** 
Rupert  Hitchcock  replied,  eagerly.  "I  under- 
stand from  the  newspapers  that  Appleton's — 
murder — did  not  occur  until  after  midnight.  My 
son  and  I  were  not  alone  from  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening  until  six  the  following  morning.  But, 
you  don't  mean,  Mr.  Gaunt,  that  I  am  suspected 
of  his  murder?" 

"Not  at  all.  Should  it  become  necessary,  how- 
ever, it's  fortunate  that  you  are  so  well  prepared. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Hitchcock,  I  know,  of  course,  of  the 
failure  of  your  firm  and  the  manner  in  which  it 
was  brought  about  from  the  inside;  but  I  do  not 
know  all  the  details.  I  am  afraid  that  both 
Smith  and  Garret  Appleton  turned  traitors  to 
you." 

"They  did,  curse  them — and  they  are  both 
beyond  my  reach!  Smith  has  disappeared,  and 
Appieton  is  dead!'* 


THE  END   OF  A  FALSE  SCENT  213 

**Do  you  know  where  Smith  has  gone?" 

"No,  Mr.  Gaunt.  I'd  give  ten  years  of  the  rest 
of  my  wretched  existence  to  find  out." 

"He  and  his  wife  sailed  from  New  York  on  the 
Saxoniay  of  the  Blue  Star  Line,  for  Cayenne,  French 
Guiana,  on  the  ninth  of  October  last." 

"I'll  get  them!"  the  other  man  cried.  "I'll 
get  them,  if  it  takes  my  last  cent!" 

"But,  if  they've  gone  to  one  of  the  non-extra- 
dition States  of  Central  America — "  the  de- 
tective asked. 

"I'll  get  them!"  Rupert  Hitchcock  repeated, 
vehemently.  "I'll  find  them  wherever  they've 
gone,  and  drive  them  to  some  place  where  they  can 
be  reached." 

"But  you  cannot  invoke  the  aid  of  the  law  to 
return  you  your  share  of — let  us  say — the  profits, 
of  your  joint  transaction," 

"No;  but  I  can  give  him  up  to  justice.  I  can 
put  him  where  I  was,  make  him  endure  the  hell 
I  lived  through,  for  four  terrible  years." 

"Think  of  his  wife — "  the  detective  began, 
gently. 

But  the  other  man  turned  upon  him,  with  long 
pent-up  fury: 

"Did  he  or  his  wife  think  of  my  son,  when  they 
made  a  scapegoat  of  me,  to  protect  themselves, 
and  robbed  me  of  the  money  we  had  saved  from 
the  wreck?     He's  a  fine  young  man,  Mr.  Gaunt; 


214  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

no  unworthy  father  ever  brought  a  straighter, 
cleaner,  boy  into  the  world.  He  was  at  the  uni- 
versity when  my  trouble  came — a  brilliant  stu- 
dent, popular  with  his  fellows,  with  a  promising 
career  opening  before  him.  Now,  his  life  is  wrecked, 
because  of  me,  and  still  he  does  not  leave  me,  or 
desert  me.  But,  if  he  had  been  their  son,  he  would 
have  been  held  blameless,  as  they  were." 

"How  did  they  succeed  in  making  you  the 
scapegoat,  Mr,  Hitchcock?"  Gaunt  asked,  sud- 
denly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  telling  you — I'll  tell  the  whole 
world  now;  I've  done  my  time. 

"The  firm  was  on  its  last  legs,  although  nobody 
knew  it,  and  we  were  paying  dividends  out  of  the 
principal,  the  same  old  game  to  keep  things  going 
awhile  longer.  To  be  sure,  we  still  had  nearly 
two  million  dollars  on  our  hands;  but  you  know 
what  tremendous  blocks  of  stock  we  carried,  how 
colossal  our  operations  were.  That  seventeen  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  would  be  a  mere  drop  in  the 
bucket,  when  the  crash  came,  and  it  was  coming, 
inevitably — we  couldn't  save  ourselves.  It  wasn't 
as  if  we  were  a  snide  curb  firm,  robbing  the  widows 
and  orphans  and  farmers  of  the  few  pennies  they 
had  gathered  together.  Our  customers  were  men 
who  could  afford  to  lose.  We  could  not;  for  we 
would  lose  our  all. 

"We  doctored  the  books  for  months  before  Smith 


THE  END  OF  A  FALSE  SCENT      215 

went  to  Europe,  and,  somehow.  Garret  Appleton 
got  onto  the  fact." 

"Yes,  he  was  a  customer  of  yours,  wasn't  he?" 

"Heaviest  trader  we  had.  I  don't  know  whether 
you  know  it,  or  not,  Mr.  Gaunt,  but  he  was  insane, 
actually  insane,  on  the  subject  of  money.  He 
spent  it,  of  course,  for  appearance's  sake;  but  he 
hoarded  all  he  could,  and  gloated  over  it,  like  a 
miser.  He  would  have  done  anything,  gone  to 
any  lengths,  to  increase  his  capital,  simply  to  have 
it  in  his  possession. 

"When  he  discovered  what  we  were  doing,  he 
offered  us  an  alternative.  He  would  denounce 
us,  or — come  in  with  us.  Smith's  was  the  master 
mind;  but  he  lost  his  nerve,  and  faked  up  that 
trip  to  Europe  for  his  health.  He  taught  me 
how  to  juggle  the  books;  but,  though  I  had  the 
nerve,  I  didn't  have  the  brains  to  carry  it  through, 
as  we  had  planned.  I  was  to  have  half  of  the 
profits  for  allowing  myself  to  be  made  the  scape- 
goat; but  I  was  assured  that,  if  worse  came  to 
the  worst,  I  would  only  be  apprehended  on  a  mere 
technicality,  and  soon  absolved  from  all  blame 
or  suggestion  of  double-dealing.  But,  just  about 
that  time,  the  Socialists  got  in  their  work,  and  there 
was  all  that  outcry  against  capitalism  and  the  money 
trust  and  the  iniquities  of  high  finance,  and  there 
wasn't  a  chance  for  me. 

"Smith  egged  it  on;  but  I  still  believed  in  him. 


216  AT  ONEi-THIRTY 

and  went  to  prison — on  his  promise  to  have  me 
quickly  released,  and  to  guard  my  share  of  the 
profits  of  our  failure,  for  me.  You  know  what 
happened  to  me,  Mr.  Gaunt.  But,  after  I  was 
safely  out  of  the  way,  it  was  a  case  of  dog  eat  dog. 
They  were  afraid  of  each  other;  but  Smith  had  ''* 
more  to  fear,  since  he  was  a  member  of  the  firm, 
.while  nothing  could  be  proved  on  Appleton. 

*'It  stands  to  reason,  therefore,  that  he  mulcted 
Smith  of  the  greater  part  of  the  money.  In  fact, 
Appleton  admitted  as  much  to  my  son  and  me, 
on  Monday  afternoon." 

'  "What  occurred,  when  you  were  released  from 
prison,  Mr.  Hitchcock?"  j 

\  "1  went  after  Smith,  of  course.  It  was  easy 
enough  to  find  out  where  he  lived;  but  I  found 
I  was  just  too  late.  He  had  gone.  Then,  I  got 
after  Appleton.  I  wrote  him,  telHng  him  where 
to  meet  me,  and,  when  he  came — cringing,  the 
;cur!  just  as  I  knew  he  would — I  didn't  try  to 
blackmail  him  for  a  cent.  I  merely  told  him  I 
was  going  to  expose  him,  and  he  voluntarily  offered 
me  half  of  the  twelve  hundred  thousand  dollars  he 
had  got  his  hands  on.  He  was  to  send  it  to  me 
the  next  day,  and  I  believe  he  would  have,  had  he 
lived.  He  was  too  afraid  of  exposure.  He  merited 
death  at  my  hands,  God  knows,  after  the  way 
he  had  treated  me!  But  I  would  have  been  the 
last  person  in  the  world,  for  the  sake  of  my  own 


THE  END  OF  A  FALSE  SCENT  217 

interests,  to  put  a  bullet  in  him  that  night.  You 
can  see  that  for  yourself." 

"Yes,  of  course,  Mr.  Hitchcock.  That  is  plain. 
...  I  am  glad  you  have  been  so  frank  with  me, 
and,  if  I  find  I  can  do  anything  for  you  in  return, 
I  shall  do  so.  If  Police  Inspector  Hanrahan  should 
call  upon  you,  however,  at  any  time,  about  that 
alibi  of  yours,  I  advise  you,  for  your  own  sake, 
to  see  him." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  seeing  him.  He  hasn't  got 
any  evidence  against  me,  and  I  can  prove  where 
I  was  every  minute  of  Monday  night.  .  .  .  Be- 
fore you  go,  Mr.  Gaunt,  I  want  to  thank  you. 
You  have  done  a  lot  for  me — more  than  you  think! 
You've  told  me,  at  least,  where  to  start  my  search 
for  Jim  Smith,  and,  when  I  get  him  where  I  want 
him,  you'll  know  it  before  a  letter  from  me  could 
reach  you." 

"  But  you'll  not  be  in  a  hurry  about  it,  Mr. 
Hitchcock,  will  you?  You'll  want  time  to  get 
your  strength  back  first.  If  Jim  Smith  has  gone 
to  a  non-extradition  country,  you  may  be  sure 
he  will  stay  there  for  a  time,  at  least,  and  you 
must  recover  your  strength,  after  your  long  con- 
finement." 

"Oh,  I  will  do,  all  right.  I'll  never  be  well, 
till  I  get  Jim  Smith  in  my  clutches.  But  what 
made  you  think  there  was  anything  the  matter 
with  me?" 


218  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"Your  step  drags  peculiarly;  you  had  a  stroke 
while  in  prison — didn't  you? — and  you  sit  all 
hunched  up,  with  your  head  bowed  over  on  your 
chest.  I  can  tell  by  the  constriction  of  your  throat, 
where  your  collar  compresses  it  when  you  speak, 
and  you  want  to  take  care  of  that  dry,  hacking 
cough  of  yours." 

"Central  America  is  good  for  a  cough  of  that 
sort,"  Rupert  Hitchcock  returned,  dryly,  as  he 
guided  the  detective  to  the  door.  "Good-night, 
Mr.  Gaunt." 

Gaunt  slept  all  the  way  home  in  the  car,  and 
arrived  cramped  and  chilled  to  the  bone.  It  was 
late,  and  he  meant  to  retire  at  once.  But  a  burly 
figure  was  sitting  in  his  chair  before  the  hearth, 
and  the  odor  of  Inspector  Hanrahan's  favorite 
brand  of  tobacco  filled  the  library. 

"Where  the  deuce  have  you  been,  Mr.  Gaunt? 
I've  been  waiting  for  you  since  seven  o'clock." 

"Sorry,  Inspector;  but  I  have  been  out  in  the 
country  interviewing  your  two  friends." 

"My  two — ^what?"  asked  the  mystified  Inspec- 
tor. 

"The  stout,  middle-aged  man  and  the  tall, 
young  one,  who  were  talking  with  Garret  Apple- 
ton,  near  the  Rocky  Point  Inn,  on  Monday  after- 
noon." 

"Well,  I'm  damned!" 

The  Inspector  seated  himself  again  heavily,  and 


THE  END  OF  A  FALSE  SCENT  219 

Stared  at  the  tall,  thin  figure  slowly  divesting 
himself  of  his  coat. 

**I  suppose  you  know  who  he  is?"  Gaunt  pur- 
sued, with  quiet  amusement. 

"That  I  don't!  I've  not  been  able  to  find  the 
slightest  trace  of  them — nor  of  those  Smiths,  in 
New  Jersey,  either!" 

"Well,  if  you  are  going  after  them,  you'd  better 
start  soon  to  catch  up  with  them.  They  are 
somewhere  in  the  wilds  of  Central  America,  by 
now." 

Gaunt  seated  himself,  filled  his  pipe,  and  told 
the  Inspector  all  that  he  had  learned.  The  official 
listened  gravely  until  he  had  finished;  then,  after 
a  long  pause,  he  said  thoughtfully: 

"It's  darned  funny,  how  you  can  get  Information 
out  of  people,  Mr.  Gaunt.  I  didn't  find  out  a  thing 
from  the  waiter,  or  head  waiter,  at  that  inn,  nor 
the  old  couple  back  in  the  woods,  either,  although 
I  roared  at  them  like  a  bull." 

Gaunt  smiled,  quietly,  to  himself. 

"Our  methods  differ,  that's  all." 

"And  as  for  that  woman,  down  in  Jersey — that 
farmer's  wife!  Good  Lord,  Mr.  Gaunt,  she'd  talk 
the  legs  off  an  iron  pot;  but  she  never  says  any- 
thing! She  thought  I  was  a  book-agent,  came  to 
collect  on  some  of  that  bunch  of  books  the  Smiths 
had,  and  she  chased  me  off  the  place,  as  if  I  was 
a  stray  dog." 


220  AT  ONE-THIETY 

"I  understand  you  called  on  Mrs.  Appletoi\. 
Thursday  afternoon,"  the  detective  remarked,  blowr 
ing  smoke-wreaths  in  the  air.  "Did  you  get 
any  information?" 

"By  George,  that  woman's  a  Tartar!"  The 
Inspector  brought  his  heavy  hand  down  with  a 
resounding  thwack  on  his  knee.  "She  is  the  worst 
I  ever  struck  in  my  life,  and  IVe  met  some  she- 
devils,  in  my  time!  ...  I  say,  though,"  he  added, 
as  a  sudden  thought  struck  him,  "you  cannot  be 
sure  that  the  J.  A.  S.  on  the  passenger-list  of  the 
Saxonia  is  really  James  Smith." 

"Well,  remember,  I  got  a  pretty  fair  description 
of  him,  when  he  called  for  his  tickets  at  the  steam-" 
ship  office,  and  then  it  was  significant,  too,  that 
he  called  himself  Judson  A.  Smiley.  That  is  a 
mistake  people  make  when  they  adopt  an  ahas. 
In  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred,  they  will 
stick  to  their  own  initials — heaven  alone  knows 
why!" 

"Well,  I  guess,  anyway,  the  ticket-agent's 
description  cinches  them.  We'll  find  out  when 
the  Saxonia  docks  again,  if  they  really  sailed  on 
her.  So,  that  puts  the  Smiths  out  of  the  way. 
Nevertheless,  I  think  I'll  get  after  that  alibi  of 
Rupert  Hitchcock's  tomorrow." 

"Let  me  know  the  result,  Inspector.  I've  done 
you  a  good  turn." 

"Sure,  I  will;   I'll  be  in  tomorrow  afternoon." 


THE  END  OF  A  FALSE  SCENT  221 

"And — er — going  to  call  on  Mrs.  Finlay  Apple- 
ton?     You'll  probably  find  her  at  home." 

The  Inspector  threw  up  his  hands,  and  departed. 

He  rose  lumberingly  to  depart;  but  at  the  door 
Gaunt  halted  him. 

"Have  you  thought  of  attempting  to  trace  the 
jewelry  that  was  taken  from  the  body?" 

"I've  had  every  office  and  pawnshop  within  the 
limits  of  greater  New  York  fine-combed;  for  all 
trace  of  them,  they  might  be  in  the  bottom  of  the 
sea."     The  detective  shrugged. 

"Perhaps  they  are,"  he  returned,  and  after  the 
Inspector  had  taken  his  departure.  Gaunt  murmured 
to  himself,  that  that  would  be  one  solution. 


CHAPTER  XIV ' 

A   GLIMMER   OF    LIGHT 

SUNDAY  morning  was  a  quiet  one  for  Gaunt. 
He  slept  late,  after  his  fatiguing  exertions 
of  the  previous  day,  and  lingered  luxuriously 
over  his  after-breakfast  smoke.  In  order  to  leave 
no  stone  unturned,  he  had  perforce  followed  the 
clue  originally  unearthed  by  Inspector  Hanrahan, 
until  he  had  proved  conclusively  that  it  had  no 
connection  with  the  case  under  investigation; 
but  this  had  been  merely  routine  work.  He  must 
wait  patiently  until  young  Mrs.  Appleton  was  able 
to  grant  him  an  interview. 

For  some  days,  a  faint  idea  had  impressed  itself 
insistently  on  his  subconscious  mind,  born  partly 
of  a  flash  of  his  rarely  developed  intuition,  and 
partly  from  a  curious  pause  in  a  conversation, 
which  had  taken  place  there  in  his  own  library. 
It  seemed  the  wildest  of  assumptions,  the  most 
improbable  that  he  had  ever  allowed  himself  to 
entertain,  and  yet  there  was  damning  evidence  in 
his  possession,  of  either  one  of  two  facts,  and  they 
appeared,  on  profound  reflection,  to  be  equally 
incredible. 

222 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  225 

Miss  Barnes,  unless  he  urgently  needed  her> 
did  not  come  to  him  on  Sundays,  and  he  sat  in 
the  library,  wistfully  fingering  the  pile  of  volumin- 
ous newspapers  until  Jenkins,  who  was  hovering 
anxiously  about  him — always  uneasy  when  the 
master  was  inactive — suggested  reading  them  to 
him.  The  man  seated  himself  at  a  respectful 
distance,  and  patiently  and  laboriously  droned  out 
the  headlines  until  Gaunt  could  endure  it  no 
longer,  and  put  an  end  to  it  by  remarking  that 
he  had  forgotten  a  telephone  message  of  impor- 
tance. 

Lifting  the  receiver  from  its  hook,  he  called  the 
Appleton  house,  and,  as  before,  asked  for  Miss 
EUerslie.  Her  low,  sweet  voice,  vibrating  over 
the  wire,  thrilled  him,  as  it  had  ever  done,  to  the 
very  core  of  his  being;  but,  for  the  first  time,  it 
carried  an  inexplicable  pang  to  his  heart,  and  the 
memory  of  Randolph  Force,  and  their  single  inter- 
view,  rose  in  his  mind. 

Barbara  EUerslie's  voice  had  lost  the  note  of 
trembling  anxiety,  and  held  a  rising  gladness  and 
joy,  which  swept  his  senses  like  music,  as  she  told 
him  of  her  sister's  returning  strength. 

"It  seems  wonderful,  Mr.  .Gaunt!"  she  was  say- 
ing. "My  sister  is  already  better  than  we  had 
dared  hope,  and  all  danger  to  her,  of  any  sort,  is 
over.  The  doctor  is  amazed  at  her  strength  and 
recuperative    powers,    no    less    than    I    am.     But 


224  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

there  seems  to  be  something  preying  on  her  mind — 
something  more  than  the  death  of  her  husband, 
I  mean.  She  is  eager  to  see  you,  and  the  doctor 
thinks,  in  view  of  her  improved  condition,  that  it 
.  would  be  better  to  allow  her  to  do  so,  and  set  her 
mind  at  rest.  If  she  is  as  well  tomorrow  as  she 
seems  today,  she  will  be  able  to  see  you.  Can 
yoii  come  in  the  afternoon?" 

Tomorrow!  Tomorrow,  then,  would  see  the 
end  of  the  problem  that  was  wrestling  from  him  all 
peace  of  mind,  and  driving  from  his  thoughts  every 
other  consideration.  That  little  Mrs.  Appleton 
held  in  her  slender  fingers  the  key  to  the  mystery, 
was  a  conviction  which  had  been  growing  in  his 
mind  since  the  day  of  the  murder,  when,  after  his 
last  interview  with  her,  he  had  heard,  from  with- 
out the  closed  door  of  her  room,  the  half-hysterical, 
half-delirious,  wholly  despairing  cry,  *' Barbara! 
He  knows!     He  knows!" 

That  he  had  not  taxed  Miss  Ellershe,  herself, 
with  his  knowledge  of  that  cry,  and  wrung  from  her 
the  truth  as  to  at  what  hour  during  the  previous 
night  Natalie  Appleton  had  been  in  the  room  where 
;  her  husband  sat,  living  or  dead,  was  a  self-reproach, 
'  which  he  strove  to  excuse  on  the  plea  that  other 
and  more  obvious  clues  clamored  for  investiga- 
tion. But  he  now  made  no  further  attempt  to  de- 
ceive himself.  He  had  spared  her  because  he  had 
shrunk  instinctively  from  causing  her  more  pain. 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  223 

from  adding  to  the  burden  of  her  sorrow  and  anxiety 
for  her  sister  by  any  act  of  his. 

He  could  not  comprehend  his  own  attitude,  nor 
give  it  a  name.  Heretofore,  on  every  case  that 
had  fallen  into  his  hands,  he  had  invariably  been 
without  emotion  or  personal  feeling  of  any  kind, 
a  mere  machine.  He  had  pursued  the  truth  re- 
lentlessly to  its  ultimate  conclusion,  without  a 
consciousness  of  pity  or  mercy,  and  had  been 
unmoved  by  countless  scenes  of  heart-rending  grief 
and  tragedy.  But  the  strange,  potent  charms  of 
this  woman — nay,  more,  the  inherent  beauty  of 
her  soul,  which  his  unerring  intuition  had  bared 
to  him  at  their  first  meeting — had  rendered  him 
helpless  before  it.  He  was  no  longer  an  autom- 
aton, an  instrument  of  justice.  Something  deep 
within  him  had  unfolded,  and  diffused  through 
all  his  being  a  warmth  that  awakened  him  into 
sentient,  vibrant  life. 

But  the  first  awe  of  this  strange,  new  emotion, 
which  was  all  weakness,  yet  all  strength,  had  at 
length  been  superseded  by  the  inflexible  sense  of 
duty  that  had  dominated  him  throughout  all  his 
shadowed  Hfe.  If  Barbara  Ellerslie  must  suffer, 
so  had  countless  other  women  suffered  before  her. 
He  must  steel  himself  against  her  tears,  her  pleading; 
against  the  sound  of  that  low,  exquisite  voice  raised 
in  heart-sickening  agony,  imploring  him  to  desist, 
to  shirk  his  duty,  and  besmirch  his  honor,  for  the 


226  AT  ONE-THIETY 

first  time  in  his  career;  against  that  dangerous, 
maddening  appeal  to  every  sensation,  every  impulse, 
every  leaping  desire  of  his  heart!  Come  what 
might,  the  murderer  of  Garret  Appleton  must  be 
brought  to  justice! 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  Inspector  Hanrahan 
appeared,  true  to  his  promise.  He  shook  hands 
with  the  detective,  in  an  abashed  way  which  ill 
accorded  with  his  self-assurance  of  the  past  few  days, 
and  betrayed  the  result  of  his  fruitless  errand  of 
the  morning,  before  he  spoke. 

^  "Well,  Mr.  Gaunt,  you  were  right.  That  trail's 
ended.  Hitchcock  left  the  Crabtree  cottage  at 
half-past  seven,  Monday  night,  reached  New  York 
a  little  after  nine,  picked  up  a  few  old  friends  of 
his,  who'd  stuck  to  him,  it  seems,  through  every- 
thing, and  took  them  out  to  his  son's  little  house 
in  Hempstead.  They  all  sat  up  most  of  the  night 
together — not  drinking,  or  carousing,  or  celebrat- 
ing, or  anything  like  that;  just  talking  over  old 
times,  and  planning  to  give  him  a  lift  over  the 
hard  places  of  the  future.  Sort  of  a  reunion,  it 
was.  Three  of  them  are  prominent,  absolutely 
reputable  business  men,  and  I've  seen  them  all. 
They  swear  Hitchcock  was  in  their  company  from 
half-past  nine  on  the  night  of  the  murder,  until 
six  the  next  morning,  when  they  all  went  to  bed. 
Now,  Appleton  was  alive  for  four  hours  after 
they  claim  they  met  Hitchcock,  and  it's  morally 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  227 

certain  he  couldn't  have  committed  the  murder 
after  six  in  the  morning.     So,  that  lets  him  out." 

"And  now,  what?"  asked  Gaunt,  quietly.  ■ 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think?"  the  Inspector 
remarked,  very  seriously.  "I've  never  admitted 
this  in  a  case  before,  even  when  it's  been  finally 
dropped  from  the  police  record,  but — I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  this  murder  was  never  solved  I 
It's  happened  before,  you  know;  but  there's  never 
been  another  case  like  this  in  the  annals  of  the 
department;  one  with  so  many  clues  at  the  start, 
and  all  of  them  leading  to  nothing!" 

"So  we  are  just  back  where  we  started,"  the 
detective  observed. 

"Yes,"  Inspector  Hanrahan  assented,  ruefully. 
"And  it'll  be  a  week  tomorrow  since  the  mur- 
der. .  .  .  Say,  how  about  it  being  a  case  of  suicide, 
and  one  of  the  family,  coming  on  the  body  by  chance, 
fixed  up  that  little  burglary  stunt  to  save  the 
family  name  from  the  disgrace,  and  all  that?  It'll 
be  a  good  frame-up  for  me  to  send  in  to  head- 
quarters, anyway,  if  the  truth  don't  come  to  light. 
If  only  we  could  find  out  that  one  of  the  family 
had  changed  the  scenery  like  that,  it'd  be  plain 
sailing!" 

"It's  not  too  late  yet,  you  know,"  remarked 
Gaunt.  "Think  of  those  weeks  we  worked  on 
the  Delamater  murders." 

"I   know;    but   there  we   had   somethin'   to  go 


228  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

on — or,  rather,  you  did.  Here  we  haven't  a 
thing." 

Jenkins*  familiar  cough  was  heard  just  outside, 
and  then  his  knock  sounded  upon  the  door. 

"Come  in!"  called  the  detective. 

"Gentleman  to  see  you,  sir." 

Gaunt  took  the  card  from  the  tray,  and  said: 

"Ask  him  to  wait  just  a  few  minutes." 

Inspector  Hanrahan  comprehended  the  implied 
hint,  and  rose. 

"Well,  I'll  be  getting  on,"  he  remarked;  and  then, 
eying  the  card,  which  the  detective  held  sus- 
piciously averted,  he  added:  "If  you  learn  any- 
thing more  about  this  business,  you'll  let  me 
know?  I'm  up  a  tree,  and  every  minute  of  time 
counts,  now." 

"You'll  hear  from  me  if  anything  turns  up," 
Gaunt  reassured  him. 

After  Inspector  Hanrahan  had  taken  his  leave, 
the  detective  summoned  Jenkins  again. 

"What  name  is  on  this  card?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

"Mr. — Ran — Randolph — Force,"  read  Jenkins, 
finding  difficulty  in  deciphering  the  English  script. 

Randolph  Force!  Had  he  come  of  his  own 
volftion,  or  because  of  the  importunities  of  another? 
At  any  rate,  he  would  be  anxious,  nervous,  almost 
distraught,  yet  concealing  his  perturbation  as  well 
as  he  could,  beneath  that  iron  reserve  of  his.  Yet, 
he    would    betray    himself.     The    detective    had 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  229 

learned  by  experience  in  many  previous  cases, 
that  nervousness  first  manifested  itself  in  the  mouth, 
the  dryness  of  the  throat,  the  thickness  of  the 
tongue.  Randolph  Force  would  seek  to  relieve 
that  nervousness.  It  would  induce  thirst,  and,  if 
a  glass  of  water  were  handy — 

"Ask  him  to  come  up,  now,  and  don't  interrupt 
us  for  anything,  unless  I  ring  the  bell." 

"Very  good,  sir." 

"But,  first,  Jenkins,  bring  me  a  glass,  a  thin, 
tall  glass  of  water,  with  one  piece  of  ice  in  it,  about 
the  size — oh,  of  an  egg,  say,  and  put  it  on  the  cor- 
ner of  the  center-table,  near  the  right  arm  of  that 
big  leather  chair.  .  .  .  That  will  do.  Now,  bring 
him  up." 

The  detective  had  not  anticipated  this  call,  and 
yet,  gaging  the  man's  character  as  he  had  in- 
stinctively done  at  their  first  interview,  he  felt 
that  it  was  not  wholly  inconsistent  with  his  concep- 
tion. 

He  heard  their  steps  approaching,  and  Jenkins 
tapped  softly,  then  opened  the  door. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Force?"  Gaunt  said.  "I 
am  glad  you  have  come." 

They  shook  hands  cordially,  and  the  door  closed 
behind  Jenkins'  retreating  figure.  Randolph  Force 
started  mechanically  toward  the  chair  by  the  fire- 
place; but  the  detective  stopped  him  suavely, 
and  motioned  to  the  large  arm-chair  by  the  center- 


230  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

table.  When  they  had  seated  themselves,  Mr. 
Force  volunteered  an  explanation  of  his  call. 

"I  lunched  with  Miss  EllersUe  today,  Mr. 
Gaunt.  She  told  me  of  her  talk  with  you  over  the 
telephone  this  morning,  and  that  you  were  to  have 
an  interview  with  Mrs.  Appleton — young  Mrs. 
Appleton — tomorrow.  She  suggested  my  calling 
this  afternoon,  to  learn  what  has  been  going  for- 
ward, if  you  have  discovered  anything  which  is 
of  importance.  I  need  not  tell  you  how  anxious 
we  all  are  to  have  the  mystery  of  Garret  Appleton's 
death  cleared  up.  The  girls  do  not  mean  to  be 
impatient;  but  the  uncertainty,  the  suspense,  are 
almost  unbearable." 

"Naturally,"  replied  Gaunt.  "Everything  is 
being  done  that  is  possible,  and  you  may  tell  Miss 
Ellerslie  for  me  that,  although  I  can  make  no 
promises,  I  am  sure  I  shall  have  definite  news  for 
her  before  long." 

"I  am  glad  of  that."  Force  paused,  as  if  uncer- 
tain just  how  to  continue,  and  Gaunt  opened  a 
box  of  cigars  that  stood  upon  the  center-table. 

"Will  you  smoke?" 

"Thanks,  no.  I  had  a  cigar  just  after  luncheon, 
which  was  rather  stronger  than  those  I  am  accus- 
tomed to,  and  my  throat  seems  dry."  The  young 
man  coughed  rather  nervously,  as  he  spoke.  "I 
don't  think  I'll  smoke  any  more,  for  awhile." 

"Perhaps  some  water — "     The  detective  made  a 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  231 

gesture  toward  the  glass,  which  stood  upon  the 
center-table  near  his  visitor's  hand.  Then  he 
seated  himself,  and  filled  his  pipe.  "Inspector 
Hanrahan  was  here  when  you  arrived — that  was 
why  I  was  compelled  to  keep  you  waiting  for  a 
few  moments.  He  seems  quite  discouraged.  He 
even  went  so  far  as  to  say  to  me,  in  confidence,  of 
course,  that  the  mystery  might  never  be  solved."  _ 

Randolph  Force  leaned  forward  suddenly  in  his 
chair. 

"Well,  isn*t  that  just  possible,  Mr.  Gaunt?" 

He  was  unaware,  perhaps,  of  the  abrupt  inten- 
sity in  his  tones. 

"Everything  is  possible,  Mr.  Force.  The  fact 
that  I  have  never  yet  lost  a  case  upon  which  I  was/ 
engaged — I  am  not  boasting,  I  am  stating  a  fact — 
does  not,  of  course,  preclude  the  possibility  of  my 
losing  this  one;  but,  unlike  the  Inspector,  I  am 
still  full  of  confidence." 

"You — you  have  found  further  evidence,  per- 
haps, to  go  on  ? " 

The  younger  man  turned  suddenly  to  the  table, 
and,  seizing  the  glass  oi  water,  gulped  down  half 
its  contents,  the  ice  clinking  violentl}^,  as  the 
glass  shook  in  his  trembling  hand.  It  was  the 
signal  for  which  Gaunt  had  arranged. 

"I  have  evidence — ^yes,  and  proof  in  abundance, 
of  the  minor  details.  But  I  will  confess  to  you, 
Mr.  Force,  that  I  still  lack  the  key  to  the  whole 


232  AT  ONE-THIETY 

situation.  The  rcux  of  the  mystery  is  still  beyond 
my  grasp." 

"It  seems  like  such  a  useless  tragedy,  doesn't 
it?"  the  younger  man  ventured.  "There  doesn't 
seem  to  be  an  atom  of  motive,  and  that  weak  attempt 
at  making  it  seem  like  the  work  of  a  burglar,  an 
attempt  which  a  mere  child  could  see  through, 
seems  to  me  like  the  work  of  a  person  whose  mind 
was  unhinged.  I  cannot  make  head  or  tail  of  the 
whole  proceeding." 

"Perhaps  you  have  not  a  detective's  instinct," 
Gaunt  replied,  quietly.  "There  are  a  half-dozen 
entirely  different  hypotheses,  which  would  account 
for  every  detail  that  now  seems  inexplicable  to 
you,  Mr.  Force,  and  yet  each  would  seem  like  the 
work  of  a  very  sane  person,  indeed,  and  a  very 
shrewd  and  crafty  one. 

"The  inspiration  of  the  rearrangement  of  the 
room,  hours  after  Garret  Appleton's  death,  was  a 
clever  and  daring  one;  although  bungiingly  carried 
out,  I  admit.  But  remember  that  the  person  who 
sought  to  accomplish  it  was  unnerved,  working 
under  great  stress  of  grief,  or  apprehension,  and 
knew  the  necessity  for  absolute  silence,  and  the 
fear  of  being  momentarily  discovered  at  his  grim 
task." 

Randolph  Force  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair, 
and  swallowed  audibly.  Then,  he  reached  again 
for  the  glass  of  water,  sipped  a  little,  and  held  the 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  233 

glass  in  his  hand.  The  tremulous  tinkling  of  the 
ice  must  have  been  noticeable  to  him,  even  in  his 
perturbed  state;  for  presently  he  put  his  other 
hand  also  about  the  glass,  to  steady  it. 
J  "Mrs.  Appleton — Miss  Ellerslie's  sister — is  very 
I  eager  to  see  you.  She  can  scarcely  wait  until 
tomorrow  afternoon,  Miss  Ellerslie  says,  and  is 
counting  the  hours.  Naturally,  the  suspense  is 
maddening  for  her,  poor  child.  She  is,  of  course, 
wild  with  anxiety  to  know  who  killed  Garret,  and, 
although  her  sister  can  give  her  any  news  you  may 
have  for  us,  I  suppose  she  feels  that  she  must 
hear  from  your  own  lips  what  has  been  accom- 
plished." 

"That  may  be,"  the  detective  said,  with  quiet 
intensity.  "Or  it  is  possible  there  is  something 
she  wishes  to  tell  me." 

"What  could  she  tell  you — ^what  does  she  know?" 
Again,  that  quick  intensity  of  tone.  "Surely,  she 
told  you  everything  she  knew  at  your  last  inter- 
view with  her."  He  gave  a  short,  forced  laugh. 
**  Perhaps,  poor  girl,  this  thing  has  preyed  upon 
her  mind  so  much  that  she  has  some  hallucinations. 
It  may  be  that  she  fancies,  in  her  poor,  dazed 
brain,  that  some  insignificant,  entirely  irrelevant 
incidents  may  be  of  value  to  you." 

"Miss  Ellerslie  told  me,  this  morning,  that  her 
sister's  mind  was  quite  clear." 

"Yes,    of   course,"    Randolph    Force    assented. 


234  AT  ONE-THIRTYj 

hastily.  ''It's  clear  now,  you  know;  but  she  is 
frightfully  weak,  and  she  was  delirious  most  of 
last  week.  In  her  condition,  some  phases  of  her 
delirium  may  seem  very  real  to  her.  They  do, 
often,  you  know,  to  a  person,  after  a  long  illness." 

"Still,  there  are  some  questions  I  should  like  to 
ask  Mrs.  Appleton — ^which  I  should  have  asked 
her  immediately  after  the  murder,  had  her  illness 
not  prevented  my  interviewing  her  further." 

"Perhaps,  Miss  Ellerslie  could  answer  them  for 
you — or  I,"  began  the  younger  man,  quickly;   but 
Gaunt  shook  his  head. 
,    "No;  only  Mrs.  Appleton  knows." 

"I  see;  some  personal  matters  between  herself 
and  her  late  husband,  perhaps?" 

"Yes,"  the  detective  assented,  gravely;  ** be- 
tween herself  and  her  late  husband." 

"But  what  have  you  discovered,  Mr.  Gaunt — 
those  details  you  referred  to?  Perhc.ps,  I  should 
not  ask;  but,  then,  I  am  virtually  a  member  of  the 
family,  you  know,  and  quite  as  much  interested 
in  the  outcome  of  this  terrible  affair  as  they  could 
possibly  be."  The  ice  clinked  insistently  in  the 
glass. 

Gaunt  smiled. 

"If  I  told  you,  Mr.  Force,  it  would  really  mean 
nothing  to  you.  When  one  has  a  series  of  minor 
facts,  but  no  connecting  link  between  them,  they 
would  seem  to  contradict  one  another,  would  seem 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  235 

to  be  purely  extraneous,  unless  one  has  a  theory 
to  build  on;  and  theories  are  dangerous  things  to 
handle.  I  never  disclose  my  theories  until  I  have 
proved  them,  and  then,  you  see,  they  become  no 
longer  theories,  but  facts.  .  .  .  Do  you  know  if 
1  Miss  Ellerslie  has  seen  Mrs.  Finlay  Appleton,  or 
Mr.  Appleton  ? " 

"At  the  funeral,  of  course;  and  Mrs.  Appleton 
has  sent  flowers  twice  to  her  daughter-in-law,  but 
has  not  called.  Yates  called  once,  or  twice,  I 
believe;  but  Miss  Ellerslie  was  too  busy  with  her 
sister  to  see  him." 

"Mr.  Force,"  Gaint  leaned  forward,  in  his 
turn,  "are  you  a  member  of  the  Patriarchs'  Club?" 

"Yes.  But  I  seldom  go  there.  The  club  has 
greatly  changed  in  character  since  I  was  first  a 
member." 

"Kow  long  ago  is  that?" 

Randolph  Force  set  the  glass  again  upon  the 
table. 

"An  active  member?  For  about  jfifteen  years?" 
The  younger  man  laughed  pleasantly.  "I  was 
put  up  for  membership  the  day  I  was  born.  My 
grandfather  was  one  of  its  founders.  The  Patri- 
archs' was  one  of  the  most  exclusive  clubs  in  the 
city. 

"How  do  you  mean  it  has  changed  in  char- 
acter?" 

"It's  become  more  sporty  than  conservative.  .  .  . 


236  AT  ONE-THIETY 

Don*t  think  Vm  an  old  fogy,  or  a  prig,  Mr.  Gaunt. 
It's  only  that  I  like  polo  better  as  a  game  than  a 
gamble,  I  prefer  yacht-racing  to  watching  a  horse- 
race ticker,  and  I  would  rather  go  to  the  play,  or 
a  dance,  or  stay  quietly  at  home,  and  read,  and  ; 
wake  up  with  a  clear  head  in  the  morning,  than 
sit  all  night  in  a  game  with  men,  half  of  whom 
cannot  afford  to  lose,  and  drink  till  I  cannot  see 
the  cards.  The  Patriarchs',  although  its  roster  of 
members  still  contains  the  best  and  oldest  names 
in  New  York,  has,  in  my  estimation,  ceased  to  be 
a  gentlemen's  club." 

"Have  you  been  there  lately?" 

"Not  in  weeks." 

"Indeed!  I  ask  because  I  wondered  if  you  were 
there  on  Monday  evening." 

"No.  I  was  at  the  wedding,  with  Miss  Ellers- 
lie.  My  mother  and  I  called  for  her,  and  brought 
her  home." 

Gaunt  had  succeeded  in  his  purpose.  The  change 
of  subject,  to  that  of  the  club,  had  had  the  desired 
effect,  and  the  younger  man's  nervousness  seemed 
to  have  dropped  from  him.  Temporarily,  he  was 
off  his  guard. 

"And  during  the  wedding  and  the  reception 
which,  followed,  did  Miss  Ellerslie  seem  quite  as 
usual?  You  noticed  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary 
in  her  manner?" 

"Oh,   she   seemed   in   brighter  spirits   than   I've 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  237 

seen  her  for  a  long  time.  She's  been  worrying 
about  her  sister  a  great  deal  lately,  you  know. 
Only,  toward  the  last — "  He  hesitated,  and  his 
latent  reserve  manifested  itself  again. 

"Toward  the  last — ^what?"  asked  the  detective,, 
quickly. 

*'I — I  think  she  must  have  overheard  something; 
some  idle  gossip  not  meant  for  her  ears.  It  had 
distressed  her  greatly,  and  she  asked  to  be  taken 
home.  She  would  not  tell  me  what  it  was  that 
she  had  heard;  but  something  must  have  occurred 
to  change  her  mood  so  greatly." 

*' Gossip!     Not  about  herself,  surely?" 

"Certainly  not!  It  must  have  been  about — 
Garret!"  Randolph  Force  spoke  hastily,  stung  by 
the  insinuation  in  Gaunt's  question,  as  the  latter 
had  intended  he  should  be.  The  young  man 
turned  to  the  table,  raised  the  glass,  and  drained 
what  little  was  left  of  its  contents.  Then,  it 
slipped  from  his  quivering  fingers,  and  fell  crash- 
ing to  the  floor,  shattered  into  a  thousand  bits. 

"Oh,  I  say — I — I'm  awfully  sorry!" 

"It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least,  Mr.  Force.  ... 
What  was  that  you  were  saying  about  the  gossip 
Miss  Ellerslie  heard  at  the  wedding — some  gossip 
about  Garret  Appleton?"  But,  even  as  he  spoke, 
he  knew  that  the  younger  man  had  realized  his 
mistake  the  instant  he  had  spoken,  and  that, 
now  fully  on  his  guard,  he  would  not  allow  himself 


238  AT  ONE-THIRTT 

to  be  drawn  out  upon  that  subject,  and  the  detective 
wisely  refrained  from  pursuing  it. 

"By  the  way,  you  are  aware,  of  course,"  he  went 
on  at  once,  "that  Mr.  Appleton  traded  in  Wall  Street 
through  the  firm  of  Smith,  Hitchcock  &  Gregory, 
at  the  time  of  their  failure,  are  you  not?" 

"I  knew  that  they  were  formerly  his  brokers; 
but  I  did  not  know  that  they  were  so  at  the  time 
of  the  failure,"  Mr.  Force  replied,  cautiously. 

"You  did  not,  then,  hear  that  he  lost  very  much 
money  when  the  crash  came?" 

"No."  The  other  man's  tone  was  lower,  and  he 
moved  again  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"Did  you,  by  any  chance,  hear  whispers,  rumors, 
that  he  had  gained,  and  not  lost,  by  the  fail- 
urei^ 

There  was  an  instant's  pause;  and  then  Mr. 
Force  parried,  with  an  attempt  at  lightness: 

"Oh,  there  are  always  whispers  and  rumors  down 
in  the  Street.     Finance  fattens  on  them." 

"Did  you,  Mr.  Force,  hear  any  such  rumors?" 
persisted  Gaunt. 

"I  believe  I  did,"  the  younger  man  admitted, 
reluctantly.  "There  are  always  a  few  bad  losers, 
in  every  kind  of  a  gamble,  you  know.  They  may 
have  been  disgruntled  because  the  crash  did  not 
seem  to  effect  Garret  particularly." 

"Did  you  hear  any  rumors  of  crooked  dealing 
on  Garret  Appleton's  part,  concerning  that  failure. 


A  GLIMMER  OF  LIGHT  239 

anywhere  else  besides  on  the  Street?  In  the 
clubs,  for  instance?     Think,  Mr.  Force." 

**I — I  really  don't  remember.  It  is  so  long 
ago.  Of  course.  Garret  was  never  very  well  liked 
by  men,  you  know.  The  set  into  which  he  could 
have  bought  his  way  would  have  welcomed  him; 
but  he  wasn't  the  buying  kind.  There  was  the 
other  class,  who  threw  open  their  doors  to  him  be- 
cause of  his  family,  his  name.  But  for  himself — 
well,  he  was  never  popular.  I — I  think  there  was 
some  talk,  some  guarded  criticism;  but  it  is  scarcely 
fair  to  speak  of  it  now,  is  it?" 

"Do  you  remember  the  nature  of  that  criticism?" 
Gaunt  was  determined  to  bring  out  his  point. 
"Was  there  any  talk  of  his  having  been  indirectly 
connected  with  the  failure?" 

"Really,  I  cannot  remember.  That  would  be 
a  dangerous  accusation  to  bring  against  a  man, 
wouldn't  it?"  Force  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the 
mantel.  "I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late!"  he  ex- 
claimed, in  well,  but  not  adequately,  feigned 
surprise.  "I  have  an  engagement — I  must  be 
going  on."  He  rose,  and  held  out  his  hand  hastily, 
as  if  eager  to  be  gone. 

"I'm  glad  you  came  in,  Mr.  Force,"  said  Gaunt, 
rising,  and  shaking  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 
"I've  been  very  much  interested  in  our  Httle  talk. 
Run  in  whenever  you  can." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to."     Mr.  Force  had  crossed 


240  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

to  the  door,  and  Gaunt  could  hear  the  knob  turn- 
ing beneath  his  hand,  in  his  anxiety  to  be  safely 
beyond  the  reach  of  any  further  astute  questioning. 
"You  will  let  us  know  when,  as  you  said,  your 
theories  turn  to  facts,  Mr.  Gaunt?" 

*'I  promise  you,"  returned  Gaunt,  rather  grimly, 
"that,  when  they  do,  you  shall  know." 


CHAPTER  XV 

AT   HALF-PAST   FOUR   IN   THE    MORNING 

AS  he  dressed,  Gaunt  thought  over  the  inter- 
view of  the  afternoon. 

Randolph  Force  had  undoubtedly  come 
to  find  out,  if  possible,  what  real  progress  the  de- 
tective had  made  toward  the  discovery  of  the  truth, 
and  his  manner  had  unmistakably  suggested  that 
he  entertained,  for  some  reason  known  only  to 
himself,  a  willingness  to  have  the  tragedy  sink  into 
oblivion,  an  eagerness  that  it  should  remain  un- 
solved, which  was  significant. 

He  had,  however,  unwittingly  placed  in  Gaunt's 
possession  a  few  details,  which,  in  a  flash  of  that 
rarely  developed  quality  of  his — that  never  closing 
eye  of  the  mind,  which  so  often  had  served  him  to 
far  greater  purpose  than  the  physical  vision  of  his 
confreres — had  revealed  to  him  a  new  train  of 
thought,  a  possibility  which,  vague  as  it  was,  and 
wholly  without  substantiation,  loomed  larger  as 
a  probability  with  each  passing  moment  of  reflec- 
tion. 

If  there  had  been  rumors  in  the  Street  and  in 
clubdom,    as    Randolph    Force    had    admitted,    of 

241 


242  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

Garret  Appleton's  possible  connection  with,  and 
connivance  at,  the  failure  of  Smith,  Hitchcock 
&  Gregory  at  the  time  it  occurred,  was  it  not 
likely  that  those  rumors  had  been  revived  by  the 
announcement  in  the  papers  of  the  pardon  granted 
to  Rupert  Hitchcock,  and  his  release?  Might  those 
whispers  not  have  been  rife  in  the  Patriarchs', 
on  that  Monday  evening  when  Yates  had  gone 
there  to  play?  If  so,  it  was  not  wholly  improbable 
that  he  had  chanced  to  overhear  them,  and,  ex- 
cited no  less  by  the  wine  he  had  been  drinking, 
in  his  semi-drugged  condition,  than  by  the  thought 
of  the  night's  losses,  and  the  maddening  problem 
of  how  he  was  to  pay  them,  he  had  rushed  home 
incontinently,  demanded  the  money  from  his 
brother,  and,  on  receiving  the  usual  refusal,  ren- 
dered more  insulting  by  Garret  Appleton's  mood, 
had  taunted  his  brother  with  the  tale  he  had  just 
overheard,  had  even,  perhaps,  demanded  a  price 
for  his  silence  toward  his  mother  and  sister-in- 
law. 

In  that  case,  it  would  be  small  wonder  if  Garret, 
flaming  into  sudden  rage,  had  uttered  some  un- 
answerable insult,  which  had  provoked  Yates  into 
striking — might  even  have  aroused  murder  in  his 
heart. 

And  then,  suddenly.  Gaunt  paused,  and  the  hands 
which  had  been  arranging  his  tie  dropped  to  his 
side,  as  a  swift  ray  of  light  darted  through  his  brain. 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOUR  IN  THE  MORNING      243 

In  a  revealing  moment,  one  phase  of  the  mystery 
was  made  clear  to  him,  and  he  could  hr.ve  cursed 
him.GcL  for  his  stupidity  of  the  past  week.  Why 
had  that  hypothesis  not  occurred  to  hin  at  once? 
Had  his  brain  become  dulled,  rusted,  that  he  had 
not  instantly  grasped  the  significance  of  the  chain 
of  events,  or  had  his  ears  been  deaf  to  the  cry  of 
reason,  hearing  only  the  low,  vibrating  music 
of  a  woman's  voice? 

He  determined  not  to  delay,  but  to  put  this  new 
theory  to  the  test  at  once,  that  very  night.  With 
no  proof  to  go  upon  but  the  evidence  of  his  in- 
tuition, he  meant  to  try  a  supremely  daring  bluff. 
If  it  failed,  no  more  harm  would  have  been  done 
than  that  one  man  would  consider  him  a  fool 
incarnate,  and,  considering  the  man,  he  thought 
he  shouid  be  able  to  endure  that  with  equanimity. 
But  something  told  him  that  he  would  not  fail. 

He  dined  mechanically,  his  mind  intent  upon 
the  coming  interview,  then  ordered  his  car,  and 
drove  arou  ;d  to  the  aprtments  of  Yates  Apple- 
ton.  He  found  him  at  home,  alone,  and  sulking. 
With  no  interests  within  himself,  no  resources 
save  the  usual  round  of  restaurants  and  clubs, 
the  enforced  seclusion,  which  conventional  mourn- 
ing thrust  upon  him,  no  less  than  the  notoriety, 
which  the  tragedy  had  cast  upon  the  family,  bored 
him  a\moct  ::o  extinction,  and  he  was  seriously 
contemplating  a  greater  indulgence  In  cocaine  than 


244  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

he  usually  allowed  himself,  and  a  consequently 
early  and  prolonged  sleep,  when  James  announced 
the  arrival  of  the  detective. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  greeted  his  unwelcome 
guest  with  a  nervous  assumption  of  cordiahty, 
and  asked  eagerly  for  news  of  progress  with  the 
investigation. 

"I  have  learned — much,  Mr.  Appleton,"  Gaunt 
replied,  gravely.  "But  it  is  to  learn  more  that 
I  am  here  tonight." 

"I  wondered  why  you  hadn't  looked  me  up 
before,**  Yates  Appleton  remarked,  with  studied 
carelessness.  ^Tve  been  hanging  round  here  all 
week,  as  I  promised  you  I  would,  waiting  to  hear 
from  you — and  beactly  stupid  it's  been,  I  can  tell 
you,  Mr.  Gaunt.  I  knew  you'd  let  me  know  if 
you'd  learned  anything  definite." 

"I  have,"  the  detective  assured  him,  still  very 
gravely,  turning  and  facing  him  directly,  as  if  he 
could  look  into  his  eyes.  "Mr.  Appleton,  you 
assured  me  last  week  that  you  had  been  per- 
fectly frank  with  me;  but  I  find  that  you  have 
not." 

"I — don't  understand  what  you  mean,  Mr. 
Gaunt.  Of  course,  I  have  been  frank  with  you!" 
The  young  man  uncrossed  his  knees,  and  shrank 
into  his  chair  so  suddenly  that  it  rolled  backward 
a  few  inches  on  its  casters,  heavy  as  it  was. 

"When  did  you  first  hear  rumors  of  your  brother's 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOUR  IN  THE  MORNING      245 

being  on  the  inside   in    that    Smith,    Hitchcock   & 
Gregory  failure?"  Gaunt  shot  at  him. 

"What!"  Yates  Appleton  exclaimed;  but  his 
voice  died  away  in  his  throat. 

"When  did  you  first  hear  of  it?  At  the  time  of 
the  failure — or  in  the  Patriarchs'  Club,  last  Mon- 
day night?" 

The  young  man. opened  his  lips;  but  only  a  queer, 
gurgling,  strangling  sound  issued  from  them. 

"When  you  taunted  your  brother  with  it,  at 
midnight  in  the  den — "  the  detective  went  on, 
inexorably.  But  there  was  no  need  for  him  to 
complete  his  sentence.     The  shot  had  struck  home. 

"So  Dakers  did  hear  me,  after  all — the  lying 
hound!"  Yates  Appleton  sprang  from  his  chair. 
**I  wouldn't  have  mentioned  it  to  Garret — I  guess 
it  was  no  news  to  him,  anyway;  some  of  the 
talk  must  have  reached  his  ears  long  ago — only, 
I  was  desperate  for  money  with  which  to  pay  my 
debts,  and,  when  he  refused  so  insolently  to  help 
me,  it  cr.me  ov^er  me  all  at  once  what  a  fraud  he 
waS;  what  a  damned  crook,  and  I  let  him  have 
it  before  I  thought." 

"And  you  had  heard  of  it  for  the  first  time, 
at  the  club  that  night?" 

"No.  Of  course  not.  It  had  been  hinted  at 
on  all  sid-,s  at  the  time  of  the  crash,  and  some  of 
the  talk  had  come  indirectly  to  my  ears;  but  I 
hadn't   paid    any    attention    to   it.     I    never   gave 


246  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

it  a  moment's  thought.  When  that  fellow,  Hitch- 
cock, was  pardoned,  a  week  or  so  ajro,  the  talk 
all  started  up  again,  and  I  happened  to  overhear 
two  men  discussing  it  at  the  club  after  I'd  finished 
playing  on  Monday  night.  I  knew  my  brother 
better  then  than  I  had  four  years  previously, 
and  I  reahzed  that — that  it  might  be  true.  Then, 
I  went  to  get  my  hat  and  coat,  as  I  told  you — 
wondering  how  promptly  I  could  take  up  those 
chips  I'd  given  at  the  card-table,  when  I  lost.  .  .  . 
They  were  two  of  the  cads  I'd  been  playing  with, 
too,  curse  them!  That  made  me  red,  and  I  rushed 
home  to  my  brother,  determined  to  get  the  money 
from  him." 

"And  that  was  when  you  struck  him,  when  you 
accused  him  of  being  connected  with  the  swindle.?'* 

"N-no — not  then."  The  young  man's  volubil- 
ity had  suddenly  dried  at  its  source. 

**When?" 

"When  he — replied  to  my  accusation." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"He — he  recalled  something  I  wanted  to  forget — 
something  I've  striven  for  years  to  live  down." 

"What  was  it?"  Then,  as  the  other  appeared 
to  hesitate,  he  added  peremptorily:  "Come,  Mr. 
Appleton,  I  must  know.  This  is  no  time  for 
half-measures." 

"Once,  years  ago,  I  was  accused — ^wrongfully, 
of  course;    that  goes  without   saying — of  cheating 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOUR  IN  THE  MORNING      247 

at  cards,  and  I  didn't  knock  the  man  down  be- 
cause— oh,  because  he  was  bigger  than  I  was  I 
That's  all.  My  brother  flung  that  in  my  face, 
and  then  I — I  struck  him!  You  know  what  hap- 
pened after  that." 

"Yes."  The  detective  straightened  suddenly  in 
his  chair.  "You  went  out,  and  returned  home 
at  about  three,  and  your  valet  assisted  you  to 
bed,  and  then  retired  himself.  .  .  .  Did  you  go 
to  sleep,  immediately?" 

"I  suppose  so.  I  don't  remember,"  Young  Mr. 
Appleton's  tones  had  sunk  from  passion  to  mere 
sullenness;  but,  at  the  last  question,  he  glanced 
furtively  at  the  impassive  face  of  his  interrogator, 
as  if  some  unaccustomed  telepathic  wave  had 
conveyed  to  his  shrinking  mind  a  premonition 
of  what  was  to  come. 

"When  did  you  wake?  Do  you  know  what  time 
It  was: 

"Why,  of — of  course!  At  half-past  six,  or  there- 
abouts, when  Katie  screamed — " 

"No — no!"  Gaunt  interrupted,  speaking  with 
dangerous  quietness.  "I  mean  before  that,  when 
lyou  wakened,  and  could  not  sleep  again — when  you 
dared  use  no  more  cocaine,  and  went  down-stairs, 
probably  for  a  drink  from  the  decanter,  which 
you  knew  was  in  the  den,  and  found  your  brother's 
body — " 

A  snarling  scream,  like  that  of  a  trapped  animal. 


248  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

rent  the  air,  and  cut  off  the  sound  of  the  detective's 
voice,  and  then  the  quick,  gasping  sobs  of  a  man's 
hysteria,  with  a  high,  thin  wail  of  craven  fear  run- 
ning through  them,  indescribably  repulsive  to 
listen  to. 

Gaunt  waited  until  the  outburst  had  somewhat 
spent  itself,  and  then,  to  make  assurance  doubly 
sure,  he  asked  sternly: 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them?" 

The  sobs  gradually  grew  more  faint,  and  Yates 
Appleton  lay  back  once  more  in  his  chair,  broken 
and  exhausted  with  the  storm  of  emotion,  which 
had  swept  all  thought,  all  effort,  from  him,  and 
bared  his  drug-shattered  nerves  to  the  torturing, 
penetrating,  inner  gaze  of  his  terrible  inquisitor. 

"What  do  you — mean?"  he  breathed.  "Do 
with — ^what?" 

"The  things  you  took  from  your  brother's  body, 
to  make  it  appear  that  a  burglary  had  been  com- 
mitted. You  could  not  hide  them  here;  for  they 
would  be  found,  and  your  guilt  be  assumed  as  a 
foregone  conclusion.  You  would  not  have  dared 
to  keep  them  much  longer,  and  you  don't  know 
how  to  get  rid  of  them.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  with  them  ? " 

"I  don't  know — I  don't  know!"  the  young  man 
moaned,  his  head  between  his  hands.  "They've 
been  before  my  eyes  day  and  night,  night  and  day! 
I  didn't  want  to  take  them  with  me.     Their  very 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOUE  IN  THE  MOENING      249 

touch  is  loathesome  to  me;  but  I  couldn't  leave 
them  in  the  den  anywhere,  for  fear,  in  the  ran- 
sacking the  police  would  give  the  place,  they  would 
be  found,  and  the  burglary  theory  proved  a  fraud. 
I  did  not  realize  how  I  bungled  it — how  easily  the 
truth  would  be  discovered." 

"But  why  did  you  do  it?"  Gaunt  asked,  quite 
as  if  he  did  not  know  the  reason,  had  not  known 
all,  in  that  illuminating  flash  of  inspiration  of  a 
few  hours  before.  "Why  did  you  rearrange  the 
room,  and  remove  your  brother's  valuables?  Why 
didn't  you  shout,  and  arouse  the  house,  and  start 
the  search  for  the  slayer?" 

"Oh,  can't  you  understand?"  Yates  Appleton 
was  eagerly,  pathetically  anxious  to  unburden 
himself  of  the  weight  he  had  carried  about  with 
him  in  silence,  for  an  interminable  week.  Conceal- 
ment appeared  to  be  no  longer  within  the  range 
of  his  thoughts,  and  he  exhibited  an  almost  child- 
like faith  in  the  belief  that  Gaunt  would  recognize 
the  truth,  had  already  recognized  it,  and  that  he 
was  safer  in  the  detective's  hands  than  his  own. 
"I  was  afraid  I  should  be  accused  of  having  killed 
him.  The  chauffeur  knew  that  I  had  returned 
'  to  the  house  at  midnight,  remained  half  an  hour, 
and  come  out  in  a  towering  rage,  with  my  hand  all 
bruised,  too.  I — I  must  have  given  Garret  a  terrific 
blow.  Then,  I  didn't  know  who  might  have  seen 
me  enter  or  leave,  or  have  heard   us  quarreling. 


250  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

As  it  was,  you  see,  Dakers  did  hear  us.  As  na 
one  else  ever  went  near  the  den  at  night,  especially 
after  twelve  o'clock,  but  my  brother  himself,  I 
was  sure  that,  had  I  been  seen  or  heard  at  mid- 
night, I  should  be  at  once  accused,  when  the  crime 
was  discovered. 

"Before  the  chauffeur  had  an  opportunity  to 
hear  of  the  murder,  I  gave  him  a  hundred  dollars 
to  say  nothing  of  my  having  gone  home  at  twelve 
the  night  before,  and  I've  been  in  terror  since, 
lest  he  should  either  come  and  blackmail  me  for 
the  rest  of  my  life,  or  go  to  the  police.  When  I 
found  out  that  you  knew  of  my  going  home  like 
that,  and  still  did  not  have  me  arrested,  I  plucked 
up  a  little  courage;  for  I  knew  you  didn't  believe 
me  guilty,  and,  if  you  didn't,  nobody  else  would 
be  likely  to.  I  was  afraid,  though,  to  have  you 
discover  that  it  was  I  who  changed  the  scene  so 
as  to  make  it  look  like  the  result  of  a  robbery; 
for  then  you  might  perhaps  think  me  guilty,  .  .  . 
I  ought  to  have  told  you  the  truth  from  the  first." 

"Suppose  you  do  so  now,  Mr.  Appleton.  Tell 
me  the  truth,  as  far  as  you  know  it,  about  last 
Monday  night." 

"Everything  that  I  have  told  you  is  the  truth, 
the  whole  truth,  up  to  half-past  four  in  the  morn- 
ing!" 

"That  was  when  you  first  awakened?" 

"Yes;   or  a  little  before.     I  tried  to  sleep;  but  I 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOUE  IN  THE  MORNING      251 

couldn't;  and  you  were  right  in  saying  that  I  was 
afraid  to  use  any  more  cocaine — I  was!  I'd  used 
too  much  already,  the  night  before,  and  I  felt  like 
the  mischief  from  it,  or  I  should  have  doped  my- 
self for  fair,  and  slept  it  off.  I  thought  a  drink 
would  help  me;  but  I  had  nothing  of  that  sort 
in  my  rooms.  Then  I  remembered  that  decanter 
in  the  den,  if  Garret  hadn't  emptied  it.  It  was 
easier  to  get  to  than  the  cellarette  in  the  dining- 
room,  and,  besides,  Dakers  had  probably  locked 
that  up  for  the  night — he  is  so  confoundedly  method- 
ical! There  was  a  night-light  burning,  of  course, 
and  I  got  up  and  looked  at  my  watch,  which  was 
lying  on  the  dresser.  It  was  half-past  four  o'clock. 
I  knew  then  that  my  brother  would  either  have 
gone  to  bed,  or  be  asleep  in  his  chair  in  the  den. 
That — that  had  happened  before,  and  I  knew 
that,  if  he  was  there,  he  would  not  hear  me — his 
sleep  would  be  too  sound — "  he  broke  off,  with 
a  gulping  sob. 

"So  you  went  down?"  asked  Gaunt,  gently. 

**  Yes.  I  put  on  a  robe  and  a  pair  of  soft  slippers, 
and  got  down  as  quietly  as  I  could.  The  night- 
lamp  was  burning  in  the  hall,  and  I  could  see,  as 
I  drew  near  it,  that  the  light  was  still  in  the  den, 
too.  When  I  reached  the  door — "  he  faltered, 
and  shuddering,  hurried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"Well,  go  on,  Mr.  Appleton.  I  know  how 
difficult  it  is  for  you;    but  we  must  get  this  over. 


262  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

I   want   to   know   every   detail.      What   did   yo>j 
see?" 

"Garret — Garret  was  sitting  there  in  his  chai; 
by  the  Hbrary-table;  but  he  wasn't  asleep.  His 
eyes  were  wide  open  and  set,  staring  horribly  straight 
into  mine.  He  was  clutching  the  arms  of  his  chair, 
his  head  was  thrown  back,  and  there  was  the 
most  awful  expression  of  fear — fear  for  his  life — • 
on  his  face.  Everything  whirled  around  and  went 
black  for  a  minute  before  my  eyes,  and  I  clung 
to  the  door-casing  to  keep  from  sinking  down  upon 
the  floor.  Then,  gradually,  things  cleared,  and 
I  saw  that  great  red  stain  on  Garret's  shirt  front. 
The  lower  drawer  of  the  table  was  open,  and  his 
revolver  was  lying  on  the  table — on  the  farther 
side  of  the  table  from  him.  Then  I  knew  that 
he  had  been  murdered." 

"How  was  the  revolver  pointing?" 

"Toward  him,  just  as  the  one  who  had  fired 
the  shot  had  laid  it  down.  It  couldn't  have  been 
suicide;  for  he  must  have  died  instantly.  He 
wouldn't  have  had  time  to  reach  over  and  place 
the  revolver  there;  and,  even  if  he  had,  his — his 
blood  would  have  dripped  upon  the  blotting-pad, 
■v^hich  lay  on  the  table.  If  he'd  shot  himself,  the 
revolver  would  have  still  been  clutched  in  his 
hand,  or  dropped  to  the  floor  beside  him.  And 
then  I  knew  that  Garret  was  too — too  much  of  a 
coward  to  have  taken  his  own  life.     For  just  one 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOUR  IN  THE  MOENING     253 

moment,  I  went  crazy,  I  think,  and  I  wondered 
if  I  had  done  it,  myself!  You  see,  my  mind  was 
still  clouded  from  the  effects  of  the  cocaine  and  the 
wine  I'd  been  drinking  the  night  before,  and  I — I 
couldn't  remember." 

;  "Then  sanity  returned  to  me,  partially,  at  least, 
and  I  knew  I  could  not  have  done  so  terrible  a 
thing.  Suddenly,  I  remembered  our  quarrel  of 
the  night,  remembered  that  my  chauffeur  alone 
knew  of  my  return  to  the  house,  and  that  he  might 
admit  it  to  the  police.  I  determined  to  buy  him 
off.  And  then  the  horrible  thought  struck  me: 
Suppose  anyone  had  seen  me,  there  in  the  den 
with  my  brother,  or  had  heard  us  quarreling? 
If  they  had,  and  told  of  it,  I  would  inevitably  be 
arrested  on  circumstantial  evidence;  I  might  per- 
haps be  convicted,  might  be  electrocuted  for  the 
murder  of  my  brother!" 

"And  then  the  idea  came  to  you  of  giving  the 
crime  the  appearance  of  having  taken  place  during 
a  burglary,  or  attempted  burglary?" 

"Yes.  I  opened  the  window,  and,  taking  a 
heavy  bronze  paper-knife  from  the  table,  I  bent 
the  hasp  of  the  fastening  to  make  it  look  as  if 
it  had  been  forced.  The  paper-knife  was  all  twisted 
out  of  shape,  when  I'd  finished;  so  I  had  to  take 
that  away  with  me,  too.  I  was  afraid  to  leave 
it  there.  I've  waited  every  day  since  for  it  to  be 
missed,  and  wondered  why  it  hadn't  been;    but 


254  AT  ONE-THIRTT 

there  were  so  many  small  articles  like  it  scattered 
about  on  the  table-top,  that  I  presume  whoever 
cleaned  up  the  den  after — after  it  was  all  over, 
and  the  police  had  finished  searching  for  clues, 
didn't  notice  that  it  was  gone.  I  don't  suppose 
any  of  the  family  has  gone  near  that  room,  since." 

"What  did  you  do  after  that?" 

"I  went  back  to  the  table,  and  broke  the  re- 
volver. I  found,  as  I  expect-ed,  that  one  car- 
tridge had  been  fired;  so  I  reloaded  it — I  knew 
where  the  box  of  cartridges  was,  in  the  same  drawer 
in  the  table,  the  drawer  which  was  open.  I  cleaned 
the  revolver,  too,  as  well  as  I  could,  with  my  hand- 
kerchief, which  I  afterward  burned,  here  in  this 
grate;  but  my  hands  were  shaking  terribly,  and 
I  hadn't  any  time  to  lose,  so  I  didn't  make  a  very 
thorough  job  of  it.  It  was  horrible,  working 
away  like  that,  with  the  fear  every  moment  of 
being  discovered!  I  knew  that,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  events,  no  one  in  the  house  would  be 
stirring  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  or  two  hours  longer; 
but  someone  might,  by  sheer  accident,  come  down, 
and  if  I  had  been  found  doing  what  I  was  doing, 
there  would  be  no  hope  for  me!" 

Yates  Appleton  had  risen,  as  if  inaction  were 
a  torture,  and  he  was  pacing  up  and  down  the 
room,  convulsively  clasping  and  unclasping  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  his  head  sunk  forward 
on  his  chest. 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOUR  IN  THE  MORNING      255 

"You  put  the  revolver  back,  then?"  Gaunt  urged 
kim  on,  but  quietly,  so  as  not  to  intrude  his  own 
personahty  any  more  than  could  be  helped;  for  the 
younger  man  was  talking  as  if  to  himself,  as  if 
communing  alone  with  his  own  thoughts,  living 
over  again  in  retrospection  every  detail  of  that 
fearful  hour. 

"Yes.  And  I  stuffed  my  handkerchief  back  in 
my  pocket.  It  was  reeking  with  oil  and  with 
powder.  Then — then  I  approached  my  brother's 
body.  That  was  the  worst  of  all!  He  was  limp, 
and  cold — horribly  cold!  I  took  everything  of 
value.  I  forced  myself  to  remember,  to  overlook 
nothing,  even  the  little  frat  pin,  which  he  would 
never  be  without,  and  which  he  wore  that  night, 
pinned  inside  his  vest-pocket.  The  vest  was  of 
soft  white  silk,  and  in  my  nervousness  I  could 
not  find  the  catch  of  the  pin,  and  jerked  it  away. 
I  tore  the  lining  of  the  pocket  a  little  in  doing  so, 
and  that  was  how  you  discovered  about  it,  I  guess. 
Anyhow,  when  you  questioned  me,  concerning  it, 
in  the  afternoon,  I  realized  that,  in  taking  it,  I 
had  overreached  myself;  for  only  someone  in- 
timately connected  with  Garret  would  have  known 
about  his  wearing  the  pin  that  way." 

"What  did  you  do  with  the  things  as  you  removed 
them  ? " 

"Put  them  in  my  pocket,  loosely.  In  getting 
them,  my — my  hands  came  in  contact  with  Gap- 


256  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

ret's  blood,  and  it  turned  me  sick  for  a  moment; 
then  another  idea  came  to  me.  The  blood  was 
thick,  and  drying  in  great  clots,  and  I  shut  my 
eyes  and  pressed  my  hands  on  the  shirtfront, 
over  the  wound.  Then  I  rushed  over  to  the  win- 
dow, and  smeared  the  curtains,  and  the  rug  before 
it,  to  make  sure  that  attention  would  be  directed 
there.  I  cleaned  my  hands  as  well  as  I  could  on 
the  curtains,  turned  out  the  Hght,  and,  literally, 
flew  to  my  room.  I  did  not  dare  take  a  last  look 
at  my  poor  brother — his  dead  eyes  had  seemed 
to  be  following  me  about  the  room  accusingly, 
while  I  worked,  and  I  was  afraid  that,  if  I  glanced 
at  him,  I  should  shriek  aloud!" 

"What  did  you  do  when  you  regained  your 
room  ? " 

"I  don't  know.  The  reaction  came,  and  I  think 
I  went  mad  for  a  little  while.  I  remember  rolling 
in  mental  agony  upon  my  bed,  stifling  m}''  groans, 
forcing  myself  to  remember  that  I  must  be  silent, 
must  make  no  sound.  Then,  I  grew  a  little  calmer, 
and  realized  that  I  had  work  to  do.  I  went  in 
the  bath-room  first,  and  bathed  carefully,  then 
examined  my  clothes  minutely  for  any  traces  of 
blood.  There  were  none,  or  upon  my  hands  or 
body,  save  under  my  finger-nails,  where  a  little 
had  dried.  These  I  cleaned,  and  then  cleaned 
the  brush  thoroughly,  too.  Then  I  took  the  money 
and    valuables,    made    them    into   a    tightly    rolled 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOtJR  IN  THE  MORNING      257 

packet,  and,  for  the  time  being,  I  thrust  it  in  the 
only  place  I  knew  my  valet,  or  the  housemaid, 
would  not  find  it  the  next  day — far  back  on  the 
top  of  the  wardrobe.  It  was  there  when  you 
questioned,  me,  in  my  room.  Later,  I  sent  James 
down-stairs  on  an  errand,  took  the  packet,  and 
thrust  it  into  my  pocket. 

"When  I  got  here,  after  leaving  Mother  at  the 
Blenheim,  I  found  my  friend  from  whom  I  had 
arranged  to  take  over  this  apartment,  waiting  to 
condole  with  me  about  the  tragedy,  and  to  hand 
me  the  keys.  I  knew  there  was  a  safe — built  on 
the  wall,  over  there  just  behind  you — and  I  made 
my  friend  give  me  the  combination  before  he  left. 
After  he  had  gone,  I  got  my  man,  James,  out  of 
the  room  on  some  pretext,  and,  opening  the  safe, 
I  put  the  packet  in  there.  And  what  to  do  with  it, 
I  don't  know." 

"Mr.  Appleton,  didn't  it  occur  to  you  to  wonder 
who  actually  did  kill  your  brother?" 

"Not  until  afterward.  I  know  it  seems  strange; 
but  my  brain  felt  numb,  and  all  I  thought  of  was 
my  own  safety.  When  the  burglary  subterfuge 
was  so  quickly  discovered,  and  the  fact  that  Garret 
was  killed  with  his  own  revolver,  I  felt  that  I  was 
lost,  and  I  fought,  struggled,  only  for  my  life.  Later 
in  the  day,  when  things  quieted  down  a  bit,  I  began 
to  think  of  my  brother,  and  how  he  came  to  his 
death.     Mr.  Gaunt,  it  is  an  utter,  absolute  mystery 


258  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

to  me — believe  me  or  not,  as  you  please.  I  cannot 
think,  cannot  imagine,  who  could  have  done  this 
thing!  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  a  shadow  of  mo- 
tive. I  can  think  of  nothing  else,  and  it  is  driving 
me  mad,  mad!  For  God's  sake,  if  you  know,  if  you 
suspect,  tell  me!     I  cannot  endure  it  much  longer!" 

"You  must  be  patient,  Mr.  Appleton.  Think 
of  your  brother's  wife,  of  your  mother!  They  are 
enduring  this  suspense,  too;  and  they  are  only 
women." 

"But  they  are  not  carrying  around  with  them 
the  secret  that  I  am — the  secret  of  that  awful  hour 
early  in  the  morning!  Mr.  Gaunt,  you  must  help 
me — ^you  must!  What  shall  I  do  with  that  packet 
in  the  safe — ^with  the  things  I  took  from  my  brother's 
body  ?  If  I  turn  them  over  to  the  police,  they  will 
arrest  me — I  know  that.  How  can  I  dispose  of 
them?" 

"If  I  were  you,  Mr.  Appleton,  I  should  wait 
until  the  murderer  is  apprehended.  Then,  when 
his  guilt  is  proved,  you  can  go  to  your  mother  and 
your  brother's  wife,  and  tell  them  the  truth.  They 
will  believe  you  then,  of  course.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  this  mystery  is  never  solved,"  a  curious 
hard  note  had  swept  into  the  detective's  voice 
with  the  last  words,  "I  should  advise  you  still  to 
go  to  those  two  women,  and  tell  them  everything, 
just  as  you  have  told  me.  They  will,  they  must, 
believe  you  in  time.     At  any  rate,  for  the  sake  of 


AT  HALF-PAST  FOUR  IN  THE  MORNING      259 

the  family  name,  they  will  not  denounce  you. 
Give  them  your  brother's  valuables,  and  allow 
them  to  make  what  disposition  of  them  they 
will." 

"They  will  never  believe  me — never!  Some- 
thing else  must  be  done  with  them,  I  wish  they 
were  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 

The  Inspector's  words  returned  to  Gaunt's  mind 
with  a  new  significance,  and  he  returned,  quietly. 

"Then  why  not  place  them  there,  yourself,  Mr. 
Appleton?  Go  on  some  short  coast  trip,  and, 
when  you  are  well  out  of  sight  of  land,  and  there 
is  no  one  to  see  you,  drop  the  package,  properly 
weighted,  overboard.  This  advice  is  contrary  to 
justice,  as  the  police  interpret  it,  I  know;  but  I 
firmly  beheve  you  to  be  innocent  of  the  death  of 
your  brother,  and  there  is  no  use  in  running  your, 
neck  into  a  noose." 

"Ah,  thank  you,  Mr.  Gaunt!    That  is  just  what- 
I  will  do.    I  should  never  have  thought  of  it,"  the 
other    man    cried,    brokenly.     "Thank    God,    you 
don't  beheve  me  guilty!" 

"The  police  are  all  at  sea.     They  have  not,  so 
far  as  I  know,  a  single  clue;    and  they  would  seize. 
upon  anyone,  on  the  slenderest  thread  of  evidence.. 
It  behooves  you  to  be  extremely  careful." 

"I  know;  I  shall  try  to  be.  You — ^you're  not- 
going,  Mr.  Gaunt?"  he  added,  wistfully,  as  the 
detective  rose.     He  was  as  glad  of  this  presence, 


-260  AT  ONE-THIETY 

now  that  he  had  unburdened  himself,  as  he  had 
previously  been  in  fear  of  it. 

**I  must.  It  is  late,  and  I  have  work  to  do  to- 
morrow. Try  a  sleeping-powder,  some  coal-tar 
product,  tonight,  instead  of  that  cocaine,  and  see 
if  you  can  get  a  little  real  rest,  or  you'll  be  a  wreck. 
Remember,  you  may  yet  need  all  your  nerve  and 
strength." 

**I  will,  sir,"  Yates  Appleton  replied,  with  the 
respectful  promptitude  of  a  school-boy  addressing 
the  master.  "Good-night,  and  thank  you — thank 
you!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 


NATALIE 


DAMON  GAUNT  would  not  have  been  human 
if  he  could  have  helped  congratulating 
himself  the  next  morning  on  the  result  of 
the  previous  evening's  work.  Both  the  shots  had 
told,  and,  although  they  had  been  the  result  more 
of  intuition,  of  a  subtle  guess,  than  pure  reasoning, 
they  had  proved  to  be  true  to  the  mark.  Then, 
quite  suddenly  his  mood  changed,  and  he  felt 
disgusted  with  himself,  for  his  vanity. 

"I'm  getting  to  be  as  bad  as  Hanrahan,"  he 
thought;  "gloating  over  the  little  I've  done,  when 
the  work  isn't  half-finished.  I've  only  succeeded 
as  yet  in  cleaning  up  a  few  minor  details.  The 
great  question  remains  unanswered,  the  real  truth 
unproved!" 

He   had    scarcely   finished   his    breakfast,   when 

Jenkins  announced  that  a  lady  was  waiting  in  the 

library  to  see  him.     She  had  refused  to  give  her 

name,  but  said  that  her  business  was  most  important. 

Would  Mr.  Gaunt  please  see  her  at  once,  if  possible? 

261 


262  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

As  the  detective  opened  the  door  of  the  library 
— that  room  heretofore  sacred  to  the  odor  of  to- 
bacco only — a  heavy  Oriental  scent  was  wafted 
unmistakably  to  his  nostrils,  and  he  smiled  com- 
prehendingly.  The  perfume  of  the  Taj  Mahal  1 
Could  Doris  Carhart's  presence  in  his  rooms  mean 
further  revelations?  He  had  felt  that  she  had 
not  been  entirely  frank  with  him  at  their  last 
interview;  but  he  thought  he  had  read  understand- 
ingly  between  the  lines.  What  did  her  visit  por- 
tend? 

He  entered,  and,  hearing  a  slight  rustle,  turned 
in  the  direction  from  which  it  came,  holding  out 
his  hand,  the  smile  still  upon  his  lips. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Carhart,"  he  said.  "What 
can  I  do  for  you  ? " 

"Mr.  Gaunt!"  she  exclaimed.  "How  did  you 
know  it  was  I?     I  gave  no  name — " 

"How  did  I  know  you  had  been  in  the  den  at 
the  Appleton's  last  Monday  evening?"  he  returned. 
"You  undervalue  the  penetrating  power  of  the 
scent  you  use." 

"Ah,  that  is  it,  of  course!"  She  sighed  in 
relief.  Then,  seating  herself  in  the  chair  he  pushed 
toward  her,  she  went  on:  "I  know  you  will  thmk 
it  very  strange — my  coming  here  like  this,  I  mean 
— but  I  simply  had  to  see  you,  Mr.  Gaunt!     Ever 


NATALIE  263 

since  you  called  on  me  last  week,  I've  been  thinking 
things  over,  and  the  more  I  thought,  the  more 
I  worried.  I  couldn't  sleep  at  all  last  night,  and 
at  dawn  I  determined  to  come  to  you,  and  tell 
you  all  the  truth.  For  I  did  not  tell  you  every- 
thing, last  week,  Mr.  Gaunt — I  could  not!" 

*'I  knew  that  you. were  not  entirely  frank  with 
me,"  remarked  the  detective. 

"You  knew  it?  Yet  you  did  not  go  to  my  father, 
as  you  had  threatened!"  she  countered. 

"Because  I  thought  I  knew  what  you  were 
keeping  back,  and  understood  the  reason  why,'* 
he  replied,  quietly. 

**I  only  kept  silent  because — because  it  was  all 
past  and  gone,  and  there  seemed  no  reason  for 
divulging  to  anyone  that  which  had  been  said  to 
me  in  the  most  sacred  confidence.  As  long  as  no 
one  else  had  known,  I  determined  that  no  one 
ever  should.  It  was  a  disgraceful,  ignoble  thing; 
but  it  came  to  nothing  in  the  end,  and  I  felt  that 
it  should  be  allowed  to  die  with  the  man  who 
had  conceived  it.  But,  after  you  had  gone,  I 
remembered  something,  and  I  wondered  if,  after 
all,  I  had  been  the  only  one  to  hear  what  he  had 
said." 

"You  have  come  here  to  be  frank  with  me. 
Miss   Carhart.f'     Then,    suppose   you   tell    me    the 


264  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

whole  story."  Gaunt  drew  his  chair  up  closer 
to  hers,  and  in  his  voice  were  the  kind,  fatherly 
accents  that  had  drawn  from  reluctant  feminine 
lips  many  a  more  heinous  confession  than  the  one 
trembling  on  hers. 

"It  was  all  true,  as  I  told  you,  Mr.  Gaunt,  that 
I  had  been  flirting  with  Garret  Appleton,  to  punish 
him  for  marrying  someone  else.  I  could  not  help 
detesting  the  woman  who  had  taken  the  place  that 
was  to  have  been  mine,  and,  when  I  saw  that  she 
suffered,  I — I  was  glad !"  She  paused  for  a  moment, 
then  went  on  in  a  low  voice:  *'But,  now,  I  am 
sorry — oh,  so  sorry!  I  would  go  to  her,  if  I  dared, 
and  explain,  beg  her  to  forgive  me,  for  the  sor- 
row I  brought  her.  But  she  would  not  listen  to 
me — it  is  too  late,  now!  You  know,  I — I  had 
cared  greatly  for  Garret  Appleton.  I  had  loved 
him  ever  since  I  was  a  little  girl,  and,  when,  after 
our  foolish  quarrel,  he  married  Natalie  Ellerslie, 
it  almost  broke  my  heart.  I  never  let  him  see  it, 
though,  and  I  thought  my  love  for  him  was  a 
thing  of  the  past.  I  only  wanted  to  make  him — 
to  make  them  both — suffer,  as  I  had  suffered!" 

Again  she  paused,  as  if  she  found  her  task  in- 
creasingly difficult  to  perform;  but  he  said  nothing, 
and  she  resolutely  forced  herself  to  continue. 

**I   did   not  know,   did   not  realize,   that  I   had 


NATALIE  265 

carried  things  too  far  with  Garret,  until  that  night 
in  the  den.  As  I  have  told  you,  he  did  not  seem 
to  be  quite — quite  himself,  and  my  fast-approach- 
ing departure  for  Europe  must  have  maddened 
him.  While  I  sat  there  on  the  divan,  with  the 
curios  he  had  brought  me  there  to  see  spread  out 
beside  me,  he  suddenly  began  to  speak,  in  a  dif- 
ferent tone  from  any  that  I  had  ever  heard  from 
him — a  queer,  thickened,  hurried  voice,  as  if  he 
was  himself  ashamed  of  the  words  he  was  utter- 
ing." 

As  she  stopped  again,  as  if  unable  to  go  on. 
Gaunt  leaned  forward,  and  asked  in  a  gentle, 
but  insistent,  voice: 

"What  did  he  say  to  you.  Miss  Carhart?  Please 
tell  me  every  word  that  you  can  remember." 

"I  can't  remember  the  words.  His  voice  sounded 
in  my  ears  as  if  it  came  from  a  great  distance, 
and  I  seemed  to  be  under  a  stifling  cloud  of  horror 
and  loathing.  I  only  remember  the  meaning  of 
the  thing  he  proposed  doing.  It  was  an  infamous 
thing,  Mr.  Gaunt!  It  is  a  hideous,  black  thought, 
'  which  should  be  buried  with  him;  but  you  want 
to  know  all  the  truth,  and  you  shall!  He  told 
me  that  he  was  going  to  arrange  a  divorce,  that 
.  he  might  marry  me!  He  said  his  wife  would  never 
consent  to  free  him,  especially — especially  now — 


266  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

and  that  the  only  thing  left  for  him  to  do  was 
to  divorce  her,  on  fabricated  proof.  He  was  going 
to  desert  her,  and  the  little  child  that  would  be 
theirs,  and  blacken  her  name  falsely,  disgracing 
her  forever  in  the  eyes  of  the  world — and  for  me! 
He  thought  that  I  would  step  into  her  place,  that 
I  would  be  his  wife  over  the  ashes  of  her  reputation, 
her  honor! 

"I  sat  there,  turning  over  and  over  in  my  hands 
the  foolish,  exquisitively  carved  bits  of  ivory, 
trying  to  force  myself  to  realize  that  I  heard 
aright,  that  he  was  actually  proposing  this  mon- 
strous thing!  At  length,  when  he  had  finished, 
I  swept  the  ivories  from  my  knee,  and  rose.  I 
tried  to  speak;  but  somehow  I  couldn't.  I  hadn't 
uttered  a  word  since  he  had  started.  Now,  all  I 
could  think  of  was  to  get  away,  to  escape  from 
him  forever,  from  the  sight  of  him  and  the  sound 
of  his  voice.  I  glanced  instinctively  at  the  open 
door  of  the  den — and  I  saw,  or  fancied  I  saw, 
on  the  wall  opposite,  in  the  hall,  the  faint  shadow 
of  a  crouching  figure,  Hstening." 

"You  are  not  sure  of  it,  then?"  asked  Gaunt, 
eagerly.  "You  are  not  sure  that  there  actually  was 
someone  there?" 

"No,  I  may  have  fancied  it,  as  I  say;  but,  some- 
how, I  felt  that  there  was  someone  out  there,  listen- 


NATALIE  267 

ing,  even  before  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  shadow. 
While  I  watched  it,  it  wavered,  and  suddenly  dis- 
appeared, and  then — then  I  turned  to  him.  We 
had  no  quarrel;  he  did  not  accuse  me  of  flirting 
with  him,  and  leading  him  on,  as  I  told  you  he  did. 
Instead,  it  was  I  who  told  him  the  truth,  and 
why  I  had  done  so.  Then  I  told  him  just  how  I 
felt  about  his  vile,  contemptible  proposition,  and 
how  I  loathed  him  for  entertaining  such  a  thought. 
I  blamed  myself,  frankly,  for  what  I  had  done; 
but  I  had  meant  it  only  for  a  mild,  discreet  flirta- 
tion, and  intended  that  my  departure  for  Europe 
should  end  it  all  for  all  time.  And  he  had  been 
planning  this  infamous  thing  against  that  poor 
little  woman  up-stairs,  who  had  never  done  me  any 
intentional  harm,  as  I  had  her!  I  told  him  how 
low,  how  terrible,  I  thought  his  plan,  and  how  I 
detested  it — how  I  hoped  I  should  never  see  his 
face  again.  He  fell  back  against  the  table,  white 
and  speechless,  and  I  walked  straight  out  of  his  den 
and  back  to  my  father." 

"Did  you  see  anyone  in  the  hall,  or  on  the  stairs, 
as  you  went?" 

**No,  Mr.  Gaunt;  no  one.  Garret  followed  me 
in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  knew  him  well  enough  to 
know  that  he  was  in  one  of  his  silent,  white-hot 
rages.     I  could  not  bear  to  remain  in  the  same 


268  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

room  where  he  was;  I  felt  that  I  could  not  breathe! 
I  was  unspeakably  glad  when  the  time  came  for  us 
to  return  home." 

"You  felt  nothing  for  him  then  but  a  passionate 
loathing?" 

"Nothing.  .  .  .  But  what  I  suffered  during  the 
long  hours  of  that  night,  no  one  can  ever  know. 
When  morning  came,  I  realized  that,  without 
being  conscious  of  it,  I  must  still  have  cared  for 
him,  in  spite  of  his  marriage,  in  spite  of  everything, 
without  being  conscious  of  it  myself.  I  must 
have  gone  on  loving  him,  up  to  the  moment  in  the 
den,  the  night  before,  when  he  had  disclosed  to  me 
the  depth  of  his  depravity,  when  I  learned  for  the 
first  time  how  dishonorable  he  was.  Had  he  lived, 
I  would  never,  never  have  seen  him,  have  entered 
his  presence  again." 

She  was  silent,  and,  for  a  few  minutes,  there  was 
no  sound. 

Then  he  prompted  her,  gently.^ 

"And  in  the  morning,  when  Marie  telephoned 
to  you  f 

"At  first,  I  couldn't  realize  i^,  any  more  than  I 
could  realize  the  night  before  that  I  had  heard 
him  aright.  Then,  when  I  knew  that  he  was 
dead — "  She  faltered,  and  suddenly  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands.     Then,   after  a   moment,   she 


NATALIE  *  269 

lifted  her  head,  and  went  on,  in  a  low,  stifled  voice. 
**My  love  for  him  seemed  to  come  back — not 
love  for  the  man  I  had  grown  to  know  in  the  last 
three  years,  the  hard,  cynical,  coarsened  man  of 
the  world,  the  husband  of  another  woman — but 
my  love  for  the  boy  I  had  first  known,  the  boy 
I  had  given  my  heart  to  when  I  was  a  little 
girl." 

She  abruptly  ceased  speaking,  and  rose,  drawing 
her  furs  about  her  with  a  little,  self-contemptuous 
laugh,  which  was  half  a  shudder. 

"That  is  all,"  she  said.  "And  now,  Mr.  Gaunt, 
if  you  don't  mind,  I  think  I  will  go.  I  have  told 
you  everything;  I  have  talked  to  you  as  I  would 
talk  to  no  other  living  person.  I  am  glad  that  we 
sail  on  Wednesday.  I  feel  very  tired,  and  very — 
old.  I'm  not  even  interested  in  knowing  who 
killed  him,  or  why.  I  don't  even  care.  Isn't 
it  funny?  I  seem  to  be  numb,  and  dead — as  dead 
as  he  is!" 

"I  understand,  and,  beHeve  me,  I  am  sorry,  Miss 
Carhart."  Gaunt's  tone  was,  indeed,  deeply  moved. 
She  was  a  thoughtless,  rather  selfish,  spoiled  child, 
nothing  more.  And  he  prayed  that  she  might 
never  know  what  she  had  done;  might  never  be 
brought  to  a  realization  of  the  havoc  and  tragedy 
she  had  wrought. 


270  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

She  held  out  a  little  hand,  which  he  could  not 
see,  and  then,  with  a  pathetic  shrug  of  her  shoulders, 
she  dropped  her  arm  limply  to  her  side,  and 
turned  to  the  door.  At  the  threshold,  he  halted 
her. 

"I  wish  you  could  tell  me  more  about  that 
shadow  you  saw,  or  fancied  you  saw,  in  the  hall. 
Miss  Carhart.  You  say  it  looked  like  a  crouching 
figure.     A  woman's  or  a  man's?'* 

**A  woman's,  I  think,"  she  answered,  hesitatingly. 
**At  least,  the  head  appeared  to  be  abnormally 
large  and  irregular,  as  if  it  was  a  woman,  with  her 
hair  puffed  out,  and  she  seemed  to  have  on  a  loose, 
flowing  gown  of  some  sort;  but  it  was  all  very 
faint  and  indistinct." 

**If  there  was  actually  a  woman  hstening  there 
in  the  hall,  have  you  any  idea  in  your  own  mind. 
Miss  Carhart,  as  to  who  she  might  have  been?*' 
he  asked  gravely,  coming  slowly  toward  her. 

She  shrank,  and,  for  an  instant,  made  no  reply. 
Then  she  burst  out  passionately: 

"Oh,  don't  ask  me  that,  Mr.  Gaunt!  In  mercy, 
don't  ask  me!  I  have  endured  all  I  can!  Please, 
please,  let  me  go." 

**I  won't  ask  you,  Miss  Carhart.  I  am  grate- 
ful to  you  for  having  come  to  me  as  you  did. 
Thank  you,  and — good-by." 


NATALIE  271 

She  laid  her  hand  hesitatingly  in  his  for  a  moment, 
and  them  sHpped  quietly  away,  and  from  his  win- 
dow he  heard  the  diminishing  hum  of  her  motor 
car. 

He  turned  away  with  a  sigh.  What  she  had  told 
him  was  parallel  with  what  he  had  himself  deduced; 
only  he  had  not  believed  that  Garret  Appleton 
would  have  gone  to  such  lengths,  would  have 
seriously  suggested  besmirching  his  wife's  character, 
in  order  to  secure  what  he  felt  to  be  his  own  happi- 
ness. 

Doris  Carhart's  testimony  had,  in  the  main, 
but  substantiated  the  theory  against  which  he  had 
struggled,  only  to  be  compelled  to  allow  it  to 
possess  him,  in  the  end.  He  shrank  from  it,  and, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  career,  his  duty  seemed  a 
hard  and  cruel  thing.  But  he  knew  that  for  him 
there  could  be  no  turning  from  it.  He  must  dis- 
cover the  truth. 

When  he  presented  himself  at  the  Appleton 
house,  in  the  early  afternoon,  Barbara  Ellerslie 
met  him  in  the  drawing-room. 

*'I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  said  quietly, 
giving  him  her  hand.  "My  sister  has  been  im- 
patient all  day  to  see  you." 

"She  is  better?     She  is  able  to  stand  the  strain, 
of  even  a  most  commonplace  interview?"  he  asked. 


272  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

and  found  himself  listening  eagerly  for  her  reply, 
not  for  the  words  themselves,  but  for  the  madden- 
ing sweetness  of  her  throbbing  tones. 

"Yes.  She  is  very  weak  still,  of  course;  but  I 
think  her  mind  is  quite  clear,  and  she  has  promised 
me  to  try  to  control  herself.  But  you  will  be  very 
careful,  Mr.  Gaunt?  You  will  remember  that  we 
have  only  just  succeeded  in  snatching  her  back 
from  death — or  what  would  be  infinitely  worse, 
the  loss  of  her  reason?" 

"I  will  remember,"  he  replied,  gravely. 

Turning,  she  led  the  way  to  young  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton's  room — the  room  where,  on  that  day,  almost 
on  that  very  hour,  a  week  ago,  he  had  left  her  with 
that  agonized  betrayal  upon  her  lips. 

He  found  her,  as  before,  bolstered  up  among  the 
soft  cushions  of  her  chaise  longue,  and  with  an  eager 
cry  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Gaunt!  You  have  come,  at  last! 
They  wouldn't  let  me  see  you  before,  and  there  is 
so  much  I  must  talk  over  with  you!"  Her  voice 
was  very  faint  and  weak;  but  the  high-pitched, 
drawling  notes  reminded  him  somehow,  even  more 
than  before,  of  his  sister's  richer,  more  mellow 
tones,  and  his  heart  contracted  suddenly  within 
him. 

"I  am  glad  that  you  are  better,  Mrs.  Appleton,'* 


NATALIE  273 

he  replied,  with  grave  gentleness.  There  was  a 
portentousness,  almost  a  solemnity,  in  his  voice 
which  made  her  gaze  up  quickly,  fearfully,  into 
his  face.  She  looked  long,  and  what  she  read 
there  evidently  decided  her  upon  some  paramount 
question,  which  had  troubled  or  vexed  her.  For 
such  an  instant,  her  pale,  pretty  lips  trembled 
childishly,  and  her  gaze  wandered  wistfully  to  the 
sunlight  streaming  in  at  the  window.  She  could, 
from  where  she  lay,  just  see  the  tops  of  the  leaf- 
less trees  in  the  park,  and  the  broad  expanse  of  the 
blue  sky  above  them.  Then,  her  trembling  ceased, 
and  a  sublime  look,  almost  of  exaltation,  settled 
upon  her  delicate  little  face,  maturing  and  ennob- 
ling it. 

**You  have  come  to  tell  me  something,  Mr. 
Gaunt?"  she  asked;  and  he  started  involuntarily 
at  the  subtle  change  in  her  voice.  Weak  it  still 
was,  but  trembling  no  longer,  and  in  poise,  in  per- 
fect control,  it  equaled  her  sister's.^  "You  have 
discovered  who  killed  my  husband?" 

"I  think  so."  The  gravity,  the  gentleness, 
increased  in  Gaunt's  tone.  "Mrs.  Appleton,  I 
have  a  duty  to  perform,  and,  difficult  and  repugnant 
as  my  task  may  be,  I  must  accomplish  it.  Are 
you  strong  enough  yet  to  bear  the  truth?  Will 
you  try  to  be  very  brave?" 


274  AT  ONE-THIETT 

"You  need  not  fear  for  me.  I  shall  be  strong — 
now.  Will  you  tell  me,  please,  what  you  have 
learned?" 

"You  have  already  told  me,  Mrs.  Appleton, 
that  you  left  the  drawing-room  and  your  guests, 
on  the  last  night  of  your  husband's  Hfe,  and  went 
to  your  room,  pleading  indisposition,  because  you 
could  not  endure  witnessing  the — let  us  say,  the 
open  flirtation  of  your  husband  and  another  woman. 
That  is  true,  is  it  not?" 

"Perfectly  true." 

*'At  what  time  did  you  leave  the  others?" 

"At  ten  o'clock.  I  know,  because,  when  I 
reached  my  room,  I  looked  at  the  time  to  count 
how  long  I  should  have  to  wait  before — before 
my  sister  returned.  I  was  wretchedly  lonely  and 
unhappy,  and  I  wanted  her." 

"You  could  not  remain  in  your  room,  though, 
could  you?  Perhaps  you  fancied  your  guests  had 
gone,  and  that  your  husband  was  alone  in  the  den. 
That  I  do  not  know;  but  I  do  know  that  you  went 
down  nearly  to  the  door  of  the  den,  and  overheard 
your  husband  talking  to  Miss  Carhart.  At  what 
time  was  that,  Mrs.  Appleton?" 

"At  eleven,"  she  returned,  composedly.  There 
was  in  her  voice  no  surprise,  no  shade  of  wonder- 
ment, at  his  knowledge.     She  was  as  one  who  had 


NATALIE  275 

thrown  aside  all  artifice,  all  subterfuge;  one  who 
stoically,  fatalistically  awaited  an  inevitable  event- 
uality. "As  you  surmised,  I  supposed  our  guests 
had  gone,  and  I  went  down  to  the  den  to  talk  to 
my  husband  about  a  private  matter.  I  knew  that 
otherwise  I  should  see  him  no  more  that  night, 
and  he  was  always  quite  unapproachable  in  the 
morning;  so  I  desired  to  have  it  over  with,  there 
and  then.  I  had  almost  reached  the  door  of 
the  den,  when  I  heard  his  voice,  and  I — stopped. 
Do  you  know  what  I  heard?  He,  my  husband, 
and  the  girl  who  was  a  guest  beneath  my 
roof,  were  conspiring  together,  to  sully  my  own 
good  name,  that  my  husband  might  cast  me 
aside,  dishonored,  and  make  her  his  wife,  in  my 
stead!" 

**I  think  you  wrong  her,"  remarked  Gaunt, 
quietly. 

** I — ^wrong  her  ? "  Her  voice  held  a  note  of  query j 
but  it  was  a  listless  one. 

"You  heard  your  husband's  voice,  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton;  but  did  you  hear  hers.'"' 

"No.  When  I  had  heard  all  I  wanted  to  from 
Garret's  own  lips,  I  turned  and  fled  to  my 
room." 

"Had  you  waited,  you  would  have  heard  her 
denounce  him  for  his  infamous   plan;    heard   her 


276  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

tell  him  how  she  loathed  him  for  it,  and  that  she 
hoped  never  to  see  his  face  again." 

"She  never  will,"  Mrs.  Appleton  observed. 
Something  in  the  cold,  emotionless  young  voice 
made  Gaunt  shiver,  in  spite  of  himself.  It  was  as 
if  she  stood  beyond  the  pale  of  all  things  human 
and  sentient  with  life.  If  only  she  would  weep, 
or  rage  in  passion  against  this  girl,  whom  she 
believed  had  meant  to  supplant  her,  he  would  have 
understood,  have  known  how  to  handle  the  sit- 
uation. But  this  stony  calmness,  this  serene  de- 
tachment from  all  things  vital,  was  utterly  un- 
natural, and  unique  in  his  experience.  A  sudden 
shock,  a  thrust  in  the  dark,  might  arouse  her, 
might  render  her  as  pliant  in  his  hands  as  she  had 
been  on  their  last  interview. 

"And  so,"  he  began  briskly  in  a  louder,  less 
gentle  voice,  "when  you  had  heard  all  you  wanted 
to,  you  went  back  to  your  room,  waited  until  your 
sister  came  home,  and  told  her.  To  save  you  from 
the  threatened  dishonor,  she  descended  to  the 
den,  and — " 

"You  are  wrong,  Mr.  Gaunt."  That  dreadful, 
toneless  voice  sounded  unchanged  by  a  shade  upon 
his  ears.  "You  are  mistaken.  It  was  not  Bar- 
bara.    It  was  I  who  killed  him." 

"You?"  he  cried,  in  well-feigned  surprise. 


"  I — wrong  her?"     Her  voice  held  a  note  of  query;  but  it  was  a 

listless  ■•■ 


NATALIE  277 

"Yes.  Was  I  not  justified?  Did  he  not  merit 
death  at  my  hands?" 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  he  said  quietly: 

"Tell  me  what  you  did,  Mrs.  Appleton." 

"  I  fled  to  my  room,  as  I  told  you,  and  waited  until 
long  after  our  guests  had  gone,  and  the  house  was 
quiet.  Then,  I  went  straight  down  to  the  den, 
and  faced  Garret,  and  told  him  what  I  had  heard 
him  say.  He  tried  to  lie  out  of  it,  at  first;  but 
finally  he  admitted  it,  and  defied  me.  I  opened 
the  drawer  where  I  knew  he  kept  his  revolver, 
and  took  it  out,  and — shot  him." 

"At  what  time  did  you  descend  to  the  den 
the  second  time — the  last  time,  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton?" 

j    ."I  don't  know,  exactly.     Some  time  after  mid- 
night." 

"And  after  you  had  shot  your  husband,  what 
did  you  do?" 

"I  laid  the  revolver  down — oh,  I  forgot  to  tell 
you  that  it  was  when  I  went  around  the  table  to 
get  the  revolver  that  I  caught  my  hair  on  the 
hanging  lamp,  and  pulled  off  that  strand  which 
you  found  there." 

"Is  that  so?  Then  you  had  not  been  in  the  den 
that  morning?" 

"No,  Mr.  Gaunt." 


278  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"But  your  sister  corroborated  you.  She  said 
you  had  been." 

"She  knew — the  truth.  She  Hed — for  me.  That 
is  Hke  Barbara." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Appleton,  what  did  you  do  after  you 
laid  the  revolver  down?" 

"I  went  back  to  my  room,  and,  when  Barbara 
came  home,  I  told  her  what  I  had  done,  and 
why." 

"Then  it  was  Miss  Ellerslie  who  went  down 
later  and  changed  the  appearance  of  the  room, 
to  give  the  impression  that  the  murder  had 
been  committed  during  an  attempt  at  burg- 
lary?" 

"Yes." 

"You  are  perfectly  sure  of  this?" 

"Quite  sure.  She — told  me  herself,  afterward, 
that  she  had  done  so." 

"And  she  has  your  husband's  money  and  valu- 
ables?" 

"I  think  so.  I  don't  know  what  she  had  done 
with  them." 

"Your  sister  returned  from  the  wedding  festivi- 
ties at  one  o'clock,  and  it  was  midnight,  or  after, 
when  you  descended  to  the  den.  Therefore,  it 
was  during  that  hour,  between  twelve  and  one, 
that  you  killed  your  husband  ? " 


NATALIE  279 

*'Yes,  Mr.  Gaunt.  .  .  .  When — are  you  going 
to  take  me  away?" 

"Away — where?"  this  time  it  was  the  detective 
who  was,  for  once,  caught  off  his  guard. 

"Why,  to  prison."  There  was  for  the  first  time 
a  flicker  of  interest  in  her  voice.  "Let  me  see 
Barbara  just  once  before  you  take  me  away!  I 
must  see  my  sister — alone!" 

"Oh,  we  won't  talk  about  taking  you  to  prison 
until  you  are  better.  In  fact,  I  won't  notify  In- 
spector Hanrahan  or  the  poHce  yet,  until  you  are 
able  to  be  moved.  I'm  not  afraid,  now  that  you 
have  confessed,  that  you  will  try  to  escape.  If 
you  will  give  me  your  word,  Mrs.  Appleton,  not 
to  run  away,  we  will  keep  this  a  secret  between 
our  two  selves  for  a  time." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Gaunt,  how  good,  how  very  kind, 
you  are!  Now  I  can  have  a  few  days  longer 
with  my  sister,  can't  I?  I  promise  you — oh,  I 
will  take  any  oath  you  please,  that  I  will  be  here 
ready  to  go  with  the  police  when  they  come  for 
me! 

The  soft,  brown,  sightless  eyes  of  Damon  Gaunt 
grew  even  softer  and  misty,  and  there  was  a  queer 
choke  in  his  voice  as  he  said,  very  gently: 

"I  can  trust  you,  Mrs.  Appleton." 

She  smiled  faintly,  and  laid  her  little  hand  on 


280  AT  ONE-THIRTY  J 

his  coat-sleeve  in  silent  gratitude.  Then,  she 
turned  again  to  the  window,  where  the  dazzling 
blue  was  changing  to  a  delicate  gray,  to  meet 
the  westering  sun;  and  in  her  eyes  was  no  longing, 
no  wistfulness,  only  a  deep  content. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

FAILURE    AND    VICTORY 

DAMON  GAUNT  lay  back  in  his  library 
chair  inert,  exhausted  mentally  and  spirit- 
ually with  the  battle  which  he  had  waged 
with  himself  and  his  conscience  for  two  long  hours. 
Now,  it  was  ended,  the  victory  was  won,  and  over 
his  spirit  had  crept  the  sacred  peace  of  renuncia- 
tion. 

In  the  pale,  ghastly  glow  from  the  green-shaded 
lamp,  his  thin  face  seemed  older  than  it  had  ever 
looked  before,  the  lines  more  sharply  drawn,  the 
cheek-bones  more  prominent,  the  closed  eyes  more 
sunken.  But  a  smile,  which  was  almost  ethereal, 
wreathed  his  smooth-shaven,  finely  chiseled  lips, 
and  about  his  brow  was  that  same  expression  of 
serenity  which  had  rested  upon  young  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton's  that  afternoon,  when  she  had  so  calmly  con- 
fessed the  murder  of  her  husband. 

How  long  he  remained  motionless  in  his  chair 
before  the  empty  hearth,  Gaunt  never  knew.  He 
became    aware    gradually    of    a    deferential,    but 

281 


282  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

insistent,  knocking  on  the  locked  door.  With  an 
effort,  he  roused  himself  from  his  reverie,  and  called 
wearily : 

"What  is  it?" 

"Mr.  Force,  sir.  Says  he  will  see  you,  sir — he 
won't  take  *no*  for  an  answer.  I  told  him  I  had 
orders  not  to  disturb  you — " 

"Never  mind.     Bring  him  up,  Jenkins." 
"Yes,  sir." 

There  was  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  audible  even 
through  the  door,  and  Jenkins  hurried  off.  He  had 
been  a  worried  man,  had  Jenkins,  since  his  master 
returned  that  afternoon.  The  door  locked  upon 
him,  Miss  Barnes  dismissed  for  the  day,  dinner 
sent  away  untasted,  and  gruff  orders  issued  that 
he  was  on  no  account  to  be  disturbed!  This  was 
a  new  Damon  Gaunt  to  him.  The  Hke  had  never 
happened  before  in  all  the  faithful  years  of  his 
service.  He  was  more  thankful  than  he  could 
have  expressed  to  Mr.  Force;  for  his  advent,  vol- 
canic as  it  was,  had  broken  the  spell. 

Gaunt  felt  for  the  electric  button  in  the  wall, 
switched  on  the  lights,  and,  striding  over  to  the 
door,  unlocked  it. 

There  was   a   quick,   firm   tread   down   the  hall, 
and  Randolph  Force  fairly  burst  into  the  room. 
"What  does  it  mean?"  he  cried  hoarsely,  waiving 


FAILUEE  AND  VICTORY  283 

any  more  conventional  salutation.  "Before  God, 
Gaunt,  what  does  it  mean?" 

"If  you'll  tell  me  what  you  mean,  my  dear  fel- 
low, I  may  be  able  to  help  you,"  the  detective 
returned,  quietly. 

"It's  Barbara!  I've  just  come  from  her.  She — 
she's  broken  our  engagement!  She  won't  give  me 
any  reason;  but  she  says  her  decision  is  irrevocable, 
and  she  means  it!  She  doesn't  deny  that  she  loves 
me;  but  merely  says  any  thought  of  marriage 
between  us  would  be  impossible!" 

"Why  have  you  come  to  me,  Mr.  Force?"  asked 
Gaunt.  "I  know  nothing  of  Miss  EllersUe's  pri- 
vate affairs." 

"I've  come  to  you  because  I  know  her  decision 
has  something  to  do  with  this  cursed  affair — ^with 
the  murder  of  Garret  Appleton!  She  has  changed 
since  this  morning,  when  I  telephoned  her — changed 
since  you  talked  with  her  sister  this  afternoon! 
Gaunt,  for  God's  sake,  tell  me  what  it  means!" 

"I  do  not  know.  Until  I  have  seen  Miss  Ellers- 
lie  myself  and  talked  with  her,  I  can  tell  you  noth- 
ing." The  detective's  tone  was  kindly,  but  de- 
cisive. 

"Oh,  you'll  see  her,  fast  enough.  She's  coming 
here  tonight  to  see  you.  She  told  me  so.  She 
may  be  here  at  any  moment,  and  I  must  be  off 


284  AT  ONE-THIRTY  ] 

before  she  comes.  She  has  learned,  somehow, 
that  the  foreign  post  of  which  I  told  you  is  still 
open  to  me.  Should  I  accept  it,  I  must  sail  a  week 
from  next  Wednesday,  on  the  sixth  of  November. 
She  insists  that  I  do  accept  it,  and  sail — alone. 
She  says  that,  if  I  love  her — and  I  do,  God  knows — 
I  must  prove  my  love  by  obeying  her  command, 
and  that  I  must  not  relinquish  it  and  return,  no 
matter  what  I  hear.  What  can  she  mean?  If 
I  obeyed  her,  and  took  this  post  which  has  been 
offered  me,  what  is  it  that  I  might  hear,  which 
would  cause  me  to  rush  back  to  her  side?  What 
is  it?"  There  was  no  query  in  the  man's  tones, 
only  an  agony,  an  entreaty,  which  was  but  thinly 
veiled.  Gaunt  approa^ched  the  young  man,  and 
placed  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

**I  know  no  more  than  you,  Mr.  Force,"  he  re- 
plied, with  a  significant  intensity  in  his  voice, 
which  was  like  a  bracing  dash  of  icy  water  on  the 
other's  frenzied  mind.  "She  is  coming  here  to- 
night you  say.  She  may  be  here  at  any  moment. 
After  my  interview  with  her,  I  may  be  able  to  help 
you — may  be  in  a  position  to  tell  you  more.  If 
you  will  accept  my  advice,  you  will  go  to  your 
rooms  at  once,  and  remain  there  until  you  hear- 
from  me — or  from  her." 

"  From  her  ?"  Randolph  Force  cried  out,  in  tram- 


FAILURE  AND  VICTOEY  285 

bling  tones.     "From  her?     Oh,  Gaunt,  you   don't 
mean  that  you — " 

*'I  mean,"  interrupted  Damon  Gaunt,  in  stern 
haste,  *'that  within  two  hours  you  will  hear  from 
me,  or  from  her.  ...  Is  that  a  motor  that  I  hear 
below?     You'd  better  go,  Mr.  Force." 

Speechlessly,  the  young  man  seized  his  hand, 
and  wrung  it  convulsively.  Then,  with  an  in- 
articulate sob,  he  dashed  from  the  room. 

Gaunt  flung  himself  again  in  his  chair.  There 
had  been  no  purring  of  a  motor  car  outside.  He 
had  wanted  to  get  Randolph  Force  out  of  the  way 
before  that  young  man's  lack  of  self-control  led 
him  to  commit  himself  in  speech,  in  a  way  he 
would  perhaps  forever  regret.  And,  too,  he  must 
have  time  to  think,  to  reflect,  to  prepare  himself 
for  the  hour  at  hand — the  hour  that  would  be  the 
most  difficult  one  of  all  his  life. 

All  too  soon,  he  heard  her  car  approach  swiftly, 
and  stop  with  a  grinding  of  brakes  at  the  curb, 
and  Jenkins  was  not  half-way  to  the  library  door 
to  announce  her  coming,  when  his  master  called 
him  to  ask  the  lady  to  come  in. 

She  came  slowly,  and  hesitated  on  the  threshold. 

"Mr.  Gaunt,"  her  sweet,  low  voice  was  steady; 
but  there  was  a  haunting  sadness  in  its  cadence, 
which   struck   at  his   heart,    "my   sister  has   told 


286  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

me  of  your  interview  with  her  this  afternoon,  of 
everything  that  was  said.  I  have  come  to  you  to 
thank  you,  if  I  can,  for  your  great  kindness,  your 
forbearance,  in  offering 'to  delay  the — final  for- 
malities, until  she  is  better  able  to  endure  them. 
But  I  have  come,  also,  for  another  purpose;  to 
beg  you,  to  implore  you  on  my  knees,  if  I  must, 
to  grant  me  an  extraordinary — a  supreme — favor. 
You  have  offered  to  put  matters  off"  for  a  few  days. 
Will  you  do  so  until  after  the  sixth  of  November, 
a  week  from  next  Wednesday?  I  have  no  right  to 
ask  this  of  you,  I  know,  and  I  cannot  explain  my 
reason  for  doing  so;  but,  if  you  find  it  compatible 
with  your  duty,  will  you  do  this  for  me.^*  On  the 
sixth,  I  shall  have  something  to  tell  you  which 
may — may  change  your  point  of  view." 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  moment.  Gaunt  seemed 
to  be  having  an  inward  struggle  with  himself, 
as  if  he  found  speech  difficult.  Then,  he  pushed 
forward  a  great,  soft-leather  arm-chair,  and,  placing 
his  own  near,  he  said: 

"Won't  you  sit  here.  Miss  Ellerslie,  and  let  us 
talk  for  a  little.?  There  is  something  I  would  like 
to  say  to  you." 

Wondering,  she  took  the  chair  he  off"ered,  and  un- 
fastened the  furs  at  her  throat.  He  seated  himself, 
also,    and    silence    fell    again    between    them.     He 


FAILURE  AND  VICTORY  287 

seemed  to  have  fallen  into  a  reverie,  to  have  for- 
gotten her  very  presence,  while  she  sat  watching 
his  face,  with  all  her  heart  in  her  great  hazel  eyes. 

At  length,  he  turned  to  her  slowly. 

"Miss  EUersHe,"  he  said,  "I  wonder  if  you  will 
let  me  tell  you  a — a  fairy  story?" 

*'A  fairy  story!"  She  doubted  the  evidence  of 
her  own  ears. 

"Yes.  I  suppose  you  think  I  have  suddenly 
taken  leave  of  my  senses^  but,  if  you  will  listen, 
I  promise  you  will  not  be  bored." 

"I  will  listen,  gladly,"  she  replied,  softly.  The 
significance  that  lay  behind  his  quiet  utterance 
gave  her  a  sudden  glimmer  of  comprehension. 

"I  haven't  heard  a  fairy  story,  myself,  for  many 
years,  and  I  don't  remember  that  I  ever  told  one 
before;  so  you  must  bear  with  me,  if,  sometimes, 
I  get  partly  out  of  the  picture.  .  .  .  My  story 
is  about  two  beautiful  Princesses,  sisters.  One 
was  tiny  and  fair,  with  golden  hair,  like  most  of 
the  Princesses  in  fairy  tales.  The  other  was  tall 
and  stately,  with  auburn  tresses — at  least  I  think 
so;  for  of  course  I  have  never  seen  them." 

He  paused,  and  from  the  girl  beside  him  came 
a  soft  murmur. 

"The  fair  Princess  was  wedded  to  an  Ogre,  and, 
together  with  her  sister,  lived  in  his  castle,  in  a 


288  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

strange,  far  country.  The  Ogre  was  cruel,  which 
was  very  terrible;  and  weak,  which  was  worse; 
and  there  was  a  foolish  Princess,  who  lived  in  her 
castle,  nearby.  She  was  not  wicked,  this  Prin- 
»  cess,  but  only  foolish,  as  I  have  said. 

"The  Ogre  thought  he  loved  her  better  than  the 
fair  Princess,  and  wanted  to  drive  the  golden- 
haired  one  and  her  sister  away,  that  the  foolish 
Princess  might  reign  in  her  stead. 

"But  there  was  a  law  in  the  kingdom  in  which 
they  dv/elt,  which  even  the  Ogre  was  forced  to 
obey,  and  that  law  read  that,  in  order  to  accom- 
plish his  purpose,  the  Ogre  was  forced  to  wrest 
from  the  fair  Princess  a  certain  treasure  which 
she  possessed,  and  valued  above  all  else  in  the 
world,  and  he  must  trample  it  under  his  feet,  on 
the  public  highway.  This  treasure  was  a  casket 
of  ivory  and  gold,  and  within  it  lay  a  jewel  beyond 
price,  and  that  jewel  the  fair  Princess  called  her 
Good  Name,  and  she  guarded  it  tirelessly  that  none 
might  take  it  from  her. 

"One  night,  the  elder  sister,  the  Princess  with 
the  auburn  tresses,  had  gone  afar,  to  the  wedding 
festivities  of  another  Princess,  and  the  golden- 
haired  one  strayed  down  to  a  dungeon  set  apart 
in  the  Castle,  where  she  overheard  the  Ogre  tell- 
ing the  fo*ohsh  Princess  how  he  meant  to  obtain. 


FAILURE  AND  VICTORY  289 

by  foul  means,  the  casket  of  ivory  and  gold.  The 
fair  Princess  supposed  they  were  conspiring  together 
to  rob  her  of  her  treasure,  and  she  fled  back  to 
her  chamber.  Had  she  waited,  she  would  have 
heard  the  foolish  Princess  repudiate  him,  and  vow 
never  to  look  upon  his  face  again.  That  is  the 
sad  part  of  the  story — that  she  didn't  wait. 

"Now,  it  is  a  curious,  but  very  important,  fact 
that  in  those  days — ^^^^e  will  call  them  the  Middle 
Ages;  that  might  mean  any  time,  for  when  human 
beings  call  their  year  a.d.  3824,  we  shall  belong  to 
the  Middle  Ages — ^well,  in  those  days  they  had 
clocks,  just  as  we  do.  It  doesn't  seem  likely, 
but  it's  true. 

"The  fair  Princess  sat  in  her  turret  chamber, 
until  she  saw  the  foolish  Princess  and  her  father 
ride  away  from  the  castle.  Then  she  went  down 
immediately  to  the  dungeon,  and  told  the  Ogre 
what  she  had  overheard.  Now,  when  she  entered 
the  dungeon,  it  was  just  half-past  eleven,  by  the 
great,  jeweled  clock  in  the  hall  of  the  castle.  It 
must  have  been;  for  that  was  the  hour  on  which 
the  foolish  Princess  and  her  father  departed,  and 
the  golden-haired  one  had  descended  at  once. 

"The  Ogre  grew  great  with  wrath,  and  defied  her, 
and,  weeping  she  retired  to  her  turret  chamber. 
She  did  not  know  that  she  had  left  a  strand  of  her 


290  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

golden  hair,  clinging  to  a  swinging  chandelier  in 
the  dungeon. 

"When  her  sister  returned  from  the  wedding 
festivities,  at  one  o'clock,  the  golden-haired  one 
told  her  of  the  plot  to  rob  her  of  her  casket  of 
ivory  and  gold.  And  the  auburn-haired  Princess 
knew  there  was  but  one  way  to  save  It,  and  to 
avenge  the  creation  of  the  plot  against  it;  so  she 
descended  to  the  dungeon,  and  slew  the  Ogre." 

Damon  Gaunt  paused,  and  the  woman  beside 
him  gave  a  little,  shuddering  moan,  and  her  hands 
clenched  and  unclenched  on  the  arm  of  her  chair. 
After  a  moment,  he  continued,  as  if  he  had  not 
heard. 

"Hours  after  the  Ogre  had  been  slain,  someone 
entered  the  dungeon,  and  tried  to  change  its 
aspect  so  that  it  would  appear  that  a  robber  band 
had  broken  into  the  castle,  and  slain  the  Ogre  i<^r 
his  personal  treasure.  This  personage  took  the 
treasure  away  with  him,  to  make  the  robbers* 
attempt  seem  more  real;  although  he  did  not  want 
it,  and  knew  not  what  to  do  with  it. 

"Now,  when  it  became  known  throughout  the 
kingdom  that  the  Ogre  was  dead,  there  was  great 
excitement;  for,  although  he  had  not  been  liked, 
or  even  respected,  he  had  possessed  two  idols, 
which   in    those   days   were   considered   very   pre* 


FAILUEE  AND  VICTORY  291 

cious.  They  were  called  Family  and  Riches,  and 
because  of  these  he  was  considered  a  very  great 
Ogre,  indeed.  So  the  people  sent  Gnome,  who 
was  thought  to  be  very  wise,  to  find  out  for  them 
who  had  slain  the  Ogre.  The  Gnome  dwelt  in  a 
mountain,  and  delved  far  into  the  earth  like  a 
mole;  for,  like  a  mole,  he  was  blind. 

"He  came  to  the  castle,  and  felt  about  the 
dungeon,  and  found  the  strand  of  golden  hair, 
clinging  to  the  chandelier,  and  he  knew  that  who- 
soever it  belonged  to  had  been  in  the  dungeon  that 
night.  He  knew,  also,  that  it  was  golden  by  its 
texture,  and  he  touched  the  hair  of  the  foolish 
Princess,  and  of  the  auburn-haired  Princess;  but 
when  he  came  to  the  fair-haired  one,  he  knew  it 
was  she. 

"She  told  him  that  she  had  been  in  the  dungeon 
on  the  previous  morning,  not  during  the  fateful 
night;  but  she  realized,  as  she  said  it,  that  he 
knew  it  was  an  untruth,  and,  as  he  departed  from 
her  presence,  he  heard  her  cry  out  to  her  sister: 
*0h,  auburn-haired  one!     He  knows!     He  knows!* 

"Later,  when  he  had  discovered   many  things,' 
the  Gnome  returned  to  the  turret  chamber  of  the 
fair  Princess,   and   she,   fearing  that  he  knew  the 
truth,  cried  out  that  she  had  slain  the  Ogre,  between 
the  hours   of  twelve   and   one  o'clock.     She   told 


292  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

him,  also,  that  it  was  her  sister  who  had  gone  down 
later,  and  tried  to  change  the  aspect  of  the  dun- 
geon. When  the  Gnome  expressed  a  doubt  of 
this,  she  vowed  that  the  auburn-haired  one  had 
admitted  it  to  her. 

"Of  course,  it  might  have  looked  very,  very  bad 
for  the  fair  Princess,  if  the  Gnome  hadn't  learned 
three  things:  The  first  was  that  the  fair  Princess 
could  not  have  slain  the  Ogre  between  the  hours 
of  twelve  and  one,  because  during  that  time  the 
Ogre  was  alive,  and  something  else  had  occurred 
in  the  dungeon  then.  What  that  something  was, 
the  Gnome  never  afterward  revealed  to  his  dying 
day. 

"The  second  thing  the  Gnome  had  learned 
was  who  the  personage  was  that  had  tried  to  alter 
the  appearance  of  the  dungeon,  and  this  he  never 
revealed  either;  but  he  knew  that  it  could  not 
have  been  the  Princess  of  the  Auburn  Hair.  The 
third  was  that  he  knew  where  the  personal  treas- 
ures of  the  Ogre  were,  and  that  the  Auburn-haired 
one  could  not  have  taken  them. 

"There  was  one  fact  which  no  one  knew,  however, 
and  that  was  that,  when  the  Princess  of  the  Auburn 
Hair  went  down  to  slay  the  Ogre,  she  dropped  from 
her  garment  three  telltale  bits  of  evidence.  At  the 
wedding  festivities  she  had  that  evening  attended. 


FAILURE  AND  VICTORY  293 

much  rice  had  been  cast  at  the  bride,  and  some 
of  it  had  lodged  in  the  robe  of  the  Auburn-haired 
One.  When  she  slew  the  Ogre,  three  grains  of 
rice  fell  from  her  mantle." 

The  woman  beside  him  caught  her  breath  sharply, 
and  Gaunt  rose  and  went  to  his  desk.  He  picked 
up  an  envelope  from  it,  and,  returning,  opened  it 
carefully.  Then,  he  took  her  unresisting  hand 
in  his,  turned  it  over,  and  shook  out  upon  her  palm 
three  grains  of  rice — the  three  tiny,  hard  globules, 
like  irregular  pearls,  which  he  had  picked  up  from 
the  floor  of  the  den,  where  they  had  lain  at  the 
feet  of  the  murdered  man.  Gaunt  did  not  seat 
himself  again,  but,  standing  before  her,  he  con- 
cluded : 

*' There  isn't  much  more  to  the  story.  Of 
course,  if  the  Gnome  had  seen  the  three  grains 
of  rice,  it  might  have  had  a  different  ending;  but 
he  didn't,  you  see,  because  he  was  blind.  So, 
he  went  back  to  his  mountain,  and  no  one  ever 
knew  who  had  slain  the  Ogre." 

"He  didn't — see  them!"  Barbara  Ellerslie  cried, 
with  amazement  and  suddenly  awakened  hope 
lifting  the  music  of  her  voice  into  a  paean  of  half- 
incredulous  joy. 

**No.  You  must  remember,  he  was  blind.  And 
so — he  failed." 


294  AT  ONE-THIRTY  \ 

"He — failed!"  she  repeated,  gaspingly.     "He — ' 
failed!" 

Then,  quite  suddenly,  she  burst  Into  a  storm  of 
weeping,  burying  her  face  In  her  arms,  while  the 
tears  streamed  down  her,  face,  and  great,  tearing 
sobs  racked  her  body.  Knowing  this  sudden  storm 
to  be  but  the  reaction  from  a  week  of  unspeakable 
horror  and  nerve-racking  suspense,  ending  in  black- 
est despair,  he  wisely  let  her  have  her  cry  out. 
It  was  only  when  her  sobs  had  subsided  to  quiver- 
ing sighs  that  he  spoke,  half-tenderly  half-jocu- 
larly : 

"By  Jove!  [I  believe  that's  the  only  fairy  story 
on  record  In  which  a  Fairy  Prince  isn't  mentioned! 
And  that  only  because  I  forgot  to  mention  him. 
He's  sailing  away  next  week,  and  he  expects  to 
take  both  the  Princesses  with  him.  But  I  beHeve 
one  Is  to  go  as  his  wife.  .  .  .  Don't  you  think 
you'd  better  call  him  up.''  Of  course,  I've  no  way 
of  knowing;  but  I  rather  think  he's  expecting  a 
message  from  you  tonight." 

"Oh,  I'll  go  straight  home,  and  send  for  him  to 
come  to  me!  I  don't  care  how  late  It  Is,  or  what 
the  servants  will  think!  Oh,  Mr.  Gaunt!"  Her 
rich  voice  thrilled  and  deepened  as  she  spoke. 
"What  can  I  say  to  you?  How  can  I  ever  thank 
you?" 


FAILUEE  AND  VICTORY  295 

"By  being  happy,  by  forgetting  all  that  makes 
you  sad,  and  by  looking  only  to  the  future." 

"I  will — oh,  I  will!"  she  whispered,  her  head 
bowed  as  though  he  had  uttered  a  benediction. 

After  a  pause,  she  raised  her  head,  and,  looking 
straight  into  his  face,  she  said  slowly  and  care- 
fully, as  if  choosing  her  words: 

**  Just  one  word  more,  Mr.  Gaunt.  In  Kentucky, 
where  we  came  from,  the  women  are  honored  and 
protected,  even  when  they're  not^ — loved.  And, 
when  a  woman  is  cruelly,  vilely  treated  by  a  man; 
when,  although  innocent,  she  is  about  to  be  dragged 
through  scandal,  and — and  worse,  just  to  get  her 
out  of  the  way — why,  then,  sir,  we  kill.  Not 
murder — kill!  We  don't  knife  in  the  dark,  or 
strangle,  or  poison,  or  strike  down  with  a  blow, 
but  we  shoot,  and  shoot  straight!  If  my  father, 
or  my  brothers,  or  any  man  kin  to  us,  had 
been  alive,  Garret  Appleton  would  have  lain  in 
his  grave  long  ago.  But  there  wasn't  anyone 
left,  but  just  us  two,  little  Natalie,  and — me. 
You  understand.?  .  .  .  May  God  bless  you,  Mr. 
Gaunt!" 

There  was  a  sudden  rustle,  a  delicate  ungloved 
hand  sought  his,  and  raised  it  gently,  swiftly,  and 
he  felt  upon  it  the  touch  of  two  soft,  fragrant  lips, 
and  then  the  sting  of  hot,  scalding  tears.  .  .  . 


296  AT  ONE-THIKTY 

His  hand  fell,  there  was  a  swirl  of  silken  skirts, 
and  the  soft  thud  of  a  closing  door. 

Damon  Gaunt  stood  for  a  moment  where  she 
had  left  him,  his  upraised  face  transfigured.  Then, 
he  bowed  his  head,  and  pressed  his  sightless  eyes 
upon  his  hand,  where  it  was  wet  with  her  tears./ 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

AFTERMATH 

IT  was  two  years  later.  Again,  Damon  Gaunt 
stood  at  his  window  in  the  early  autumn, 
drinking  in  the  scents  and  sounds  of  the  busy 
street  life  below,  and,  again,  his  hands  strayed 
to  the  ivy  vine  upon  the  sill.  He  was  thinking, 
too,  of  that  day,  two  years  before,  which  had 
ushered  in  the  great  event  of  his  life,  and  his 
thoughts  strayed  to  the  far-off  country,  where  the 
woman  he  loved  had  found  happiness. 

At  a  knock  upon  the  door,  he  turned. 

It  was  Miss  Barnes,  who  entered  with  a  large, 
square  white  envelope  in  her  hand. 

"Letter  for  you,  Mr.  Gaunt,"  she  said. 

"Yes?     Will  you  read  it  to  me,  please?" 

She  opened  the  envelope,  and  glanced  at  its 
contents,  and  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"It  won't  be  necessary,  Mr.  Gaunt.  You  can 
read  this  for  yourself.  It's  been  written  on  one 
of  those  new  typewriters  with  the  raised  dots 
and  points  system,  and  it's  post-marked  Odessa." 

297 


298  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

"Ah,  give  it  to  me,"  Gaunt  cried,  eagerly.     He 
took  from  her  the  large  sheets  of  paper,  covered 
with  a  pecuhar  arrangement  of  raised  characters, 
and,  spreading  it  out  on  the  table  before  him,  ran  ; 
his  fingers  lightly  over  it. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Gaunt:  My  husband  and  I  have 
often  desired  to  write  you;  but  we  wished  to  have 
none  but  you  know  the  contents  of  our  letter. 
At  last  we  have  found  this  simple  machine,  and, 
by  real  good  luck,  at  about  the  same  time  we 
saw  in  a  newspaper,  sent  to  us  from  America,  by 
Harmon  Witherspoon,  an  account  of  several  articles 
on  crime,  which  you  had  written  for  a  current 
magazine.  The  account  stated  that  you  had  writ- 
ten them,  yourself,  on  this  same  make  of  type- 
writer which  we  have  found  out  here.  Randolph 
purchased  one,  at  once,  and  I  have  been  learning 
this  system,  that  we  may  keep  in  touch  with  the 
best  friend  we  have  on  earth. 

"My  sister  is  still  with  us.  Her  little  son,  born 
a  year  and  a  half  ago,  lived  only  a  few  hours;  but 
she  has  become  reconciled  even  to  that  loss.  She  I 
is  well  and  quietly  happy.  You  may  be  interested 
in  knowing  that  Harmon  Witherspoon  starts  for 
Russia  in  two  months.  He  began  writmg  to 
Natalie  six  months  after  we  left  America.  At 
first,  she  took  no  interest,  and  I  was  forced  to  reply 


AFTERMATH  299 

to  his  letters;  but  later  she  took  up  her  own  corre- 
spondence, and  when  he  offered  to  come  out, 
she  did  not  forbid  it.  We  think  that  possibly 
there  may  be  something  left  in  life  for  her,  after 
all. 

"There  is  something  which  my  husband  thinks 
should  be  told  you — I  think  you  know  it  already. 
An  hour  before  we  sailed  from  America,  a  package 
came  to  me  with  a  typewritten,  unsigned  com- 
munication, telling  me  that,  if  I  valued  my  future 
happiness  and  that  of  all  the  family,  I  would  drop 
the  package  quietly  overboard  in  mid-ocean.  It 
was  rather  large  and  heavy;  indeed,  most  of  the 
space  seemed  to  be  taken  Up  by  a  weight  or  stone. 
Through  the  sacking  which  covered  it,  I  could  feel 
several  small,  hard  articles  and  something  be- 
sides— something  that  felt  like  a  leather  bill- 
case.  I  obeyed  the  instructions  on  the  typewritten 
card  accompanying  it;  so  the  incident  is  closed. 
I  ask  no  questions;  I  merely  state  this  as  a  curious 
adventure, 

**Will  you  let  us  hear  from  you?  We  will  wait 
anxiously  for  your  letter. 

"I  have  left  my  greatest  news  until  the  last. 
There  is  another  member  of  the  family  now — a 
very  small  member,  and  his  name  is  Damon  Gaunt 
Force.    Some  day,  when  he  can  understand,  he  must 


300  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

be  told  a  little  of  what  his  father  and  mother  owe 
to  the  greatest-hearted  man  living. 

"With  gratitude  and  sincere  affection, 

"Barbara  Ellerslie-Force." 

Gaunt  crushed  the  letter  between  his  hands, 
and  bowed  his  head  upon  it,  for  a  moment.  It 
seemed  that  he  could  hear  her  voice,  with  its  sweet, 
faintly  husky  drawl.  He  could  feel  again,  the 
touch  of  her  hps  upon  his  hand.  .  .  . 

"Dear  God!" 

Steps  sounded  along  the  hall.  There  was  a 
sharp  rap  upon  the  door,  and  Jenkins,  his  voice 
beaming,  announced: 

"Inspector  Hanrahan,  Mr.  Gaunt." 

Gaunt  raised  his  head  slowly,  and  passed  his 
hand  across  his  brow,  as  if  dazed.     Then  he  said: 

"My  old  friend,  Hanrahan — what  on  earth  can 
he  want?     Well,  show  him  up,  Jenkins." 

The  faithful  man-servant  departed,  chuckHng. 
Ever  since  Gaunt  had  given  up  his  life-work,  Jen- 
kins had  been  sorely  worried  and  depressed.  Could 
this  visit  of  the  Inspector  mean  a  return  to  the 
activities  that  had  made  his  master  famous  on  two 
continents? 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Gaunt,  sir?" 

"How  do  you  do.  Inspector?  What  brings  you 
here,  this  beautiful  morning?" 


AFTEEMATH  301 

"Something  that  will  make  you  slip  into  your 
coat,  and  come  out  on  Long  Island  with  me,  as 
fast  as  the  car  can  get  us  there.  The  greatest  case 
in  years,  Mr.  Gaunt — positively  the  greatest! 
Daughter  of  Carrol  Whitney,  one  of  those  Meadow- 
brook  Colony  millionaires  you  know,  disappears 
during  a  dance  at  her  father's  house,  last  night, 
and  is  found  an  hour  ago,  under  the  cedars  in  a 
secluded  portion  of  the  estate,  with  her  throat  cut. 
Seventeen,  beautiful,  no  love-affair,  no  rrwtive, 
no  clue.  I  promised  to  get  you,  if  I  had  to  kid- 
nap you." 

Gaunt  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 

"I  am  sorry.  Inspector,"  he  said.  "But  I  am 
out  of  the  game,  for  good  and  all.  I  have  not 
taken  a  case  in  two  years,  you  know.  I  shall  never 
take  another." 

"Aw!  Why  do  you  keep  harping  on  that?  Just 
because  you  failed  in  that  Appleton  case!  We 
can't  win  out  every  time.  I've  lost  more  cases, 
myself,  than  I'd  admit  to  anyone  on  earth  but 
you;  and,  remember,  no  one  else  has  ever  solved 
the  mystery  of  how  Garret  Appleton  came  to  his 
death.  You  remember  what  I  said  to  you,  here 
in  this  very  room,  just  a  few  days  before  you  threw 
up  the  case?  I  said  that  it  would  be  a  good  frame- 
up  to  hand  in  at  headquarters,  if  I  failed  to  find 


302  AT  ONE-THIRTY 

the  one  who  did  it,  to  let  it  go  as  a  suicide,  which 
someone  of  the  family  had  discovered,  and  changed 
the  room  to  make  it  look  as  if  robbery  had  been 
the  motive,  so  as  to  save  the  family  name.  Well, 
upon  my  soul,  I  believe  that  is  the  true  solution. 
Funny  thing  those  valuables  were  never  found, 
isn't  it? 

"Yes,  it  does  seem  strange,"  Gaunt  admitted. 

"Well,  anyway,  you  should  not  have  taken  it 
so  much  to  heart.  There  ain't  a  man  can  touch 
you  in  the  business,  today,  Mr.  Gaunt.  Come 
on  down  with  me  to  Long  Island — do!" 

"Sorry,  Inspector — this  is  final.  I'll  never  take 
another  case." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  why  you  feel  so  bad  about 
it.  I  know  you're  cleverer  than  the  rest  of  us, 
and  I  suppose  you  think  that,  if  you  hadn't  been 
blind,  you  could  have  solved  it — you  would  have 
seen  something  that  we  missed.  You're  too  touchy 
about  it,  that's  all.  Look  at  the  wonderful  work 
you  have  done  in  the  past!  If  it's  just  because 
you  can't  see  that  you  won't  take  another  case — '* 

Gaunt  turned  upon  him  with  a  swift  gesture  for 
silence,  and  there  was  a  harsh  note  of  agony  in  his 
voice,  as  he  cried: 
^    "Oh,  no,  Inspector  J  I  see — too  much!" 


JOHN  FOX,  JR'S, 

STORIES   OF  THE  KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

May  be  had  wherever  becks  are  sold.      Ask  for  Srosset  and  Dunlap's  iict 

;  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE    LONESOME  PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  "lonesome  pine"  from  •which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fame  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
footprints  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  He  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  youn^ 
engineer  a  madder  chase  thaa  *'the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King- 
dom Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

*'  Chad."  the  "litUe  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  v/aif,  by  thv2  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A  KNIGHT  OF  THE    CUMBERLAND., 

^  Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland 
I  the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  f  eudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon* 
shiner's  son,  snd  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chriS' 
tened  "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  *'  Hell  fer-Sartain'*  and  othar 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

fiak  for  com;flete  fret  list  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 


Grosset  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


STORIES    OF    RARE    CHARM    BY 

GENE  STRATTON-PORTER 

Hay  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grosset  and  Ounlap's  list 

-  -I'-*  ...  ■  , 

THE  HARVESTER 
Illustrated  by  W.  I*  Jacobs 

"The  Harvester,"  David  Langston,  is 
a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  who  draws 
his  living:  from  the  prodigal  hand  of  Mother 
Nature  herself.  If  the  book  had  nothing  in 
it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man,  wiih 
his  sure  grip  on  life,  his  superb  optimism, 
and  his  almost  miraculous  knov.ledge  of 
nature  secrets,  it  would  be  notable.  But 
when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "Medicine 
Woods,"  and  the  Harvester's  whole  sound, 
healthy,  large  outdoor  being  realizes  that 
this  is  the  highest  point  of  life  which  has 
come  to  him  —  there  begins  a  romance*  i 
troubled  and  interrupted,  yet  of  the  rarest  idyllic  qu^ty. 

FRECKLES.       Decorations  by  E.  Stetson  Crawford 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in' 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 

great  Limberlost  Swamp;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
im  succumbs  to  the  chann  of  his  engaging  personality;  and  his  love- 
story  with  "The  Angel"  are  full  of  real  sentiment. 

A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST. 

Illustrated  by  Wladyslaw  T.  Brenda. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods;  a  buoyant,  lovable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by  the 
sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage. 

It  is  an  inspiring  story  of  a  life  worth  while  and  the  rich  beauties 
of  the  out-of-doors  are  strewn  through  all  its  pages. 

AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW. 

Illustrations  in  colors  by  Oliver  Kemp.    Design  and  decorations  by 
Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour. 

The  scene  of  this  charming,  idyllic  love  story  is  laid  in  Central 
Indiana.  The  story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self- 
sacrificmg  love;  the  friendship  that  gives  freely  without  return,  and 
the  love  that  seeks  first  the  happiness  of  the  object.  The  novel  is 
brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of  nature,  and  its  pathos 
and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 

Ash  for  complete  free  list  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 


Grosset  &  Dunlap,  526  West 26th  St.,  New  York 


MYRTLE    REED^S   NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.       Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list 


LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE. 

A  charming  story  of  a  quaint  comer  of 
New  England  where  bygone  romance  finds  a 
modem  parallel.  The  story  centers  round 
the  coming  of  love  to  the  j'oung  people  on 
the  staff  of  a  newspaper — and  it  is  one  of  the 
prettiest,  sweetest  and  quaintest  of  old  fash- 
ioned love  stories,  »  *  *  a  rare  book,  ex- 
quisite in  spirit  and  conception,  full  of 
delicate  fancy,  of  tenderness,  of  delightful 
humor  and  spontaniety. 


fi>¥EN'! 
DERiOIJ]) 
I  L/CE 


A  SPINNER  IN  THE  SUN. 

Miss  Myrtle  Reed  may  always  be  depended  upon  to  write  a  story 
in  which  poetry,  charm,  tenderness  and  humor  are  combined  into  a 
clever  and  entertaining  book.  Her  characters  are  delightful  and  sbe 
always  displays  a  quaint  humor  of  expression  and  a  quiet  feeling  of 
pathos  which  give  a  touch  of  active  realism  to  all  her  writings.  In 
"A  Spinner  in  the  Sun"  she  tells  an  old-fashioned  love  story,  of  a 
veiled  lady  who  lives  in  solitude  and  whose  features  her  neighbors 
have  never  seen.  There  is  a  mystery  at  the  heart  of  the  book  that 
throws  over  it  the  glamour  of  romance. 

THE    MASTER'S    VIOLIN, 

A  love  story  in  a  musical  atmosphere.  A  picturesque,  old  Ger- 
man virtuoso  is  the  reverent  possessor  of  a  genuine  "Cremona."  He 
consents  to  take  for  his  pupil  a  handsome  youth  who  proves  to  have 
an  aptitude  for  technique,  but  not  the  soul  of  an  artist.  The  youth 
has  led  the  happy,  careless  life  of  a  modem,  well-to-do  young  Amer- 
ican and  he  cannot,  with  his  meagre  past,  express  the  love,  the  passion 
and  the  tragedies  of  life  and  all  its  happy  phases  as  can  the  mastei 
who  has  lived  life  in  all  its  fulness.  But  a  girl  comes  into  his  life — a 
beautiful  bit  of  human  driftwood  that  his  aunt  had  taken  into  her 
heart  and  home,  and  through  his  passionate  love  for  her,  he  learns 
the  lessons  that  life  has  to  give— and  his  soul  awakes. 

Founded  on  a  fact  that  all  artists  realize. 

A.sk  for  a  complete  free  list  of  G.  &  D.  Pofiular  Copyrighted  Fiction 


Grosset  &  Dunlap,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


GROSSET&DUNLAP'S 

DRAMATIZED    NOVELS 

IHS   JOND   THAT   ARE   MAKING  THEATRICAL   HISTORY 
May  be  had  wherever  books  ara  sold.       Ask  for  Qrossst  &  Dunlap's  IM 

WITHIN  THE  LAW.     By  Bayard  Veiller  &  Mandn  Dana. 
Illustrated  by  Wm.  (Jiiarles  Cooke. 

This  is  a  novelizafion  of  the  immensely  successful  play  trhich  ra> 
for  two  years  in  New  York  and  Chicago. 

The  plot  of  this  powerful  novel  is  of  a  young  woman's  revenga 
directed  against  her  employer  who  allowed  her  to  be  sent  to  prison 
for  three  years  ou  a  charge  of  theft,  of  which  she  was  innocent. 

WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARY.     By  Robert  Carlton  Brown. 

%ustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

This  is  a  narrative  of  a  young  and  Innocent  country  girl  who  is 
Cadflcnly  thrown  into  the  very  heart  of  New  York,  "the  land  of  her 
Mireauiri,    where  she  is  exposed  to  all  sorts  of  temptations  and  dangers. 

The  story  of  Mary  is  being  told  in  moving  pictures  and  played  ia 
;heatres  all  over  the  world. 

THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM.      Bj  David  Belasca 
Illustrated  by  John  Rae,  * 

This  is  a  novelization  of  the  popular  play  in  which  David  Wan 
field,  as  Old  Peter  Grimm,  scored  such  a  remarkable  success. 

The  story  is  spectacular   and  extremely  pathetic  but  withalf 
powerful,  both  as  a  book  and  as  a  play. 
THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH.    By  Robert  Hichens. ; 

This  novel  is  an  intense,  glowing  epic  of  the  great  desert,  sunlit 
barbaric,  with  its  marvelous  atmosphere  of  vastness  and  loneliness. 

It  is  a  book  of  rapturous  beauty,  vivid  in  word  painting.    The  plaj 
lias  been  staged  with  magniS.cent  cast  and  gorgeous  properties. 
BEN    HUR.    A  Tale  of  the  Christ.    Ey  General  Lew  Wallace. 

Tht;  whole  world  has  placed  this  famous  Religious-Historical  Ro» 
mance  on  a  height  of  pre-eminence  which  no  other  novel  of  its  time 
hsi;  reached.  The  clashing  of  rivalry  and  the  deepest  human  passions, 
;th«  perfect  reproduction  of  brilliant  Roman  life,  and  the  tense,  fierc* 
'atmosphere  of  the  arena  have  kept  their  deep  fascination.  A  tr» 
mendr^us  dramatic  success. 

.'BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.    By  George  Broadhurst  and  Arthol 
Hornblow.  Illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

A  stupendous  arraignment  of  modem  marriage  which  has  created 
an  Interest  on  the  stage  that  is  almost  unparalleled.  The  scenes  are  laid 
m  New  York,  and  deal  with  conditions  among  both  the  rich  and  poor. 

The  interest  of  the  story  turns  on  the  day-by  day  developments 
which  show  the  young  wife  the  price  she  has  paid.    ^ 

Ask  for  comj/lete  fret  list  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Ccfiyrighed  Fiction 

GxossET  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St..  New  York 


GROSSET  &    DUNLAP'S 

DRAMATIZED  NOVELS 

Original,  sincere  and  courageous — often  amusing — the 
kind  that  are  making  theatrical  history. 

MADAME  X.  By  Alexandre  Bisson  and  J.  W.  McCon- 
aughy.  Illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 
A  beautiful  Parisienne  became  an  outcast  because  her  hus- 
band would  not  forgive  an  error  of  her  youth.  Her  love  for 
her  son  is  the  great  final  influence  in  her  career.  A  tremen- 
dous dramatic  success. 

THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH.    By  Robert  Hichens. 

An  unconventional  English  woman  and  an  inscrutable 
Stranger  meet  and  love  in  an  oasis  of  the  Sahara.  Staged 
this  season  with  magnificent  cast  and  gorgeous  properties. 

THE  PRINCE  OF  INDIA.    By  Lew.  Wallace. 

A  glowing  romance  of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  presenting 
with  extraordinary  power  the  siege  of  Constantinople,  and 
lighting  its  tragedy  with  the  warm  underglow  of  an  Oriental 
romance.    As  a  play  it  is  a  great  dramatic  spectacle. 

TESS   OF    THE    STORM    COUNTRY.      By  Grace 

Miller  White.     Illust.  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
A  girl  from  the  dregs  of  society,  loves  a  youn^  Cornell  Uni- 
versity student,  and  it  works  startling  changes  m  her  life  and 
the  lives  of  those  about  her.    The  dramatic  version  is  one  ol 
the  sensations  of  the  season. 

YOUNG    WALLINGFORD.      By  George    Randolph 
Chester.     Illust.  by  F.  R.  Gruger  and  Henry  Raleigh. 

A  series  of  clever  swindles  conducted  by  a  cheerful  young 
man,  each  of  which  is  just  on  the  safe  side  of  a  State's  prison 
ofience.  As  "  Get-Rich-Quick  Wallingford,"  it  is  probably 
the  most  amusing  expose  of  money  manipulation  ever  seea 
on  the  stage. 

THE  INTRUSION  OF  JIMMY.  By  P.  G.  Wode- 
house.  Illustrations  by  Will  Grefe. 
Social  and  club  life  id  London  and  New  York,  an  amateur 
tiurglary  adventure  and  a  love  story.  Dram^-tized  under  the 
title  of  "A  Gentleman  of  Leisure,"  it  furnishes  hours  of 
laughter  to  the  play-goers. 

Grosset  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


CHARMING  BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS 

llcy  bo  had  nhsrevar  books  art  sold.        AsH  for  Grsssat  A  Oiinlap's  list 


WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE.    By  Jean  Webster, 
illustrated  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

0ns  o?  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been 
written.    It  13  brio:ht,  whimsical  and  entertaining,  lifelike,  laughable 

euid  thoroughly  hiiinan. 

JUST    PATTY,    Ey  Jean  Webster. 

Illustrated  by  C.  M.  Relyea. 

Patty  13  fnll  of  the  joy  of  living:,  fun-loving,  given  tomgeniotis 
tftischief  foritsovv-a  5,£,kc,  with  a  disregard  for  preity  convention  which 
Is  an  unfailing  source  of  joy  to  her  fellows. 

THE  POOR  LTTTL?-)  RICH  GIRL,    By  Eleanor  Gates. 

With  four  fall  page  illustrations. 

This  story  relates  the  experience  of  one  of  those  unfortunate  chil- 
dren whose  early  days  are  passed  in  the  companionship  of  a  governess, 
fieldom  seeing  either  parent,  and  famishing  for  natural  love  and  tender- 
ness.   A  charming  play  as  dramatized  by  the  author. 

REBECCA  OF  PUNNYBROOK    FARM,       By   Kate  Douglas 
Wisgin. 

One  of  the  most  bcantifnl  studies  of  childhood — Rebecca's  artistic, 
umusual  and  quaintly  charming  qualities  stand  out  midst  a  circle  of 
austere  New  Englanders.  The  stage  version  is  making  a  phenominal 
dramatic  record. 

NEW  CHRONICLES  OF  REBECCA.   By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

Aflditional  episodes  in  the  girlhood  of  this  delightful  heroine  that 
carry  Rebecca  through  various  stages  to  her  eighteenth  birthday. 

REBECCA  MARY,    By  Annie  Hamilton  Donnell. 

Illustrated  by  Elizabeth  Shippen  Green. 

This  author  possesses  the  rare  gift  of  portra3nngall  the  grotesque 
little  joys  and  sorrows  and  scruples  of  this  veryr  small  girl  with  a  p^ 
thos  that  is  peculiarly  genuine  and  appealing. 

EMMY  T-OU:    Her  Book  and  Heart,    By  George  Madden  Maitia 
Illustrated  by  Charles  Loiiis  Ilinton. 

Emmy  Lou  is  irresistibly  lovable,  because  she  is  so  absolutely  real. 
She  is  just  a  bewitchingly  innocent,  hugable  little  maid.  The  book  ia 
wonderfully  human. 


Aah  for  com{ifste  fret  list  of  G.  &  D.  Po^^xlar  Co^yrighed  Fiction 

Gr^ossET  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St..  New  York 


Vrv'iSAABEZXV.Clr.IZif&^B 


STORIES    OF    WESTERN    LIFE 

May  be  had  wharaver  books  an  sold.      Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE,    By  Zane  Grey. 
Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

In  this  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago,  we 
are  permitted  to  see  the  unscrupulous  methods  employed  by  the  in- 
visible hand  of  the  Mormon  Church  to  break  the  will  of  those  lef  us* 
ing  to  conform  to  its  rule. 

FRIAR  TUCK,    By  Robert  Alexander  Wason. 
Illustrated  by  Stanley  L.  Wood. 

Happy  Hawkins  tells  us,  in  his  humorous  way,  how  Friar  Tuck 
lived  among  the  Cowboys,  how  he  adjusted  their  quarrels  and  love 
aSairs  and  how  he  fought  with  them  and  for  them  when  occasion 
required. 

THE   SKY  PILOT,    By  Ralph   Connor. 
Illustrated  by  Louis  Rhead, 

There  is  no  novel,  dealing  with  the  rough  existence  of  cowboys, 
so  charming  in  the  telling,  abounding  as  it  does  with  the  freshest  and 
the  truest  pathos. 

THE  EMIGRANT  TRAIL,    By  Geraldine  Bonner. 
Colored  frontispiece  by  John  Rae. 

The  book  relates  the  adventures  of  a  party  on  its  overland  pil- 
grimage, and  the  birth  and  growth  of  the  absorbing  love  of  two  strong 
men  for  a  charming  heroine. 

THE  BOSS   OF  WIND  RIVER,    By  A.  M.  Chisholm. 
Illustrated  by  Frank  Tenney  Johnson. 

This  is  a  strong,  virile  novel  with  the  lumber  industrv  for  its  cen- 
tral theme  and  a  love  story  full  of  interest  as  a  sort  of  suoplot 

A  PRAIRIE  COURTSHIP,    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

A  story  of  Canadian  prairies  in  which  the  hero  is  stirred,  through 
the  influence  of  his  love  for  a  woman,  to  settle  down  to  the  heroic 
business  of  pioneer  farming. 

JOYCE  OF  THE  NORTH  WOODS,    By  Harriet  T.  Comstock. 

Illustrated  by  John  Cassel. 

A  story  of  the  deep  woods  that  shows  the  power  of  love  at  work  • 
among  its  primitive  dwellers.    It  is  a  tensely  moving  study  of  the 
human  heart  and  its  aspirations  that  unfolds  itself  through  thrilling 
situations  and  dramatic  developments. 

Ask  for  a  complete  free  list  of  G,  &  D,  Popular  Cofit/rigJited  Fiction 

Grosset  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


TITLES    SELECTED    FROM 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAFS  LIST 

*  -at 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grosset  &  Ounlap's  !is*. 

THE     SECOND     WIFE.    By  Thompson  Buchanan.  Illustrated 
by  W.  W.  Fawcett.    Harrison  Fisher  wrapper  printed  in  four 
colors  and  gold. 

An  intensely  interesting  story  of  a  marital  complication  in 
a  wealthy  New  York  family  involving  the  happmess  of  a 
bsa-utiful  young  girl. 

TESS  OF  THE  STORM  COUNTRY.    By  Grace  MUler  White. 
Illustrated  by  Howara  Chandler  Christy. 
An  amazingly  vivid   picture  of   low   class     life  in   a   New 
York  college  town,  with  a  heroine  besutiful  and  noble,  who  makes 
a  great  sacrifice  for  love. 

FROM  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MISSING.    By  Gracfc  Miller 
V/hiie. 

Frontispiece  and  wrapper  in  colors  by  Penrhyn  Stanlaws. 
Another  story  of  "the  storm  country."    Two  beautiful  chil- 
dren are  kidnapped  from  a  wealthy  home  and  appear  many  years 
after  showing  the    effects    of   a  deep,    malicious    scheme    oehind 
their  disappearance. 

THE  LIGHTED  MATCH.  By  Charles  Neville  Buck.  lUus- 
traied  by  R.  F.  Schabelitz. 
A  lovely  princess  travels  incognito  through  the  States  and 
falls  in  love  with  an  American  man.  There  are  ties  that  bind  her 
to  someone  in  her  own  home,  and  the  great  plot  revolves  round 
her  efforts  to  vrork  her  way  out. 

MAUD    BAXTER.    By  C.    C.    Hotchkiss.    Illustrated  by  Will 
Grefe. 
A  romance  both  daring  and  delightful,  involving  an  Amer- 
ican girl  and  a  young  man  who  had  been  impressed   into  English 
service  during  the  RevolutioiL 

THE    HIGHWAYMAN.    By   Guy   Rawlence.     Illustrated  by 
Will  Grefe. 
A  French  beauty  of  mysterious  antecedents  wins  the  love 
of  an  Englishman  of  title.    Devolopments  of  a  startling  character 
and  a  clever  untangling  of  affairs  hold  the  reader's  iuterest 

THE  PURPLE  STOCKINGS.  By  Edward  Salisbury  Fieid. 
Illustrated  in  colors;  marginal  illustrations. 
A  young  New  York  busmess  man,  his  pretty  sweetheart, 
his  sentimental  stenographer,  and  his  fashionable  sister  are  iJt 
mixed  up  in  a  misunderstanding  that  surpasses  anything  in  the 
way  of  comedy  in  years.    A  story  with  a  laugh  on  every  page. 

Ask  for  ccmjiJete  free  Jtst  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 

Grosset  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

STEWART    EDWARD   WHITE 


THE  RULES  OF  THE  GAME.  Illustrated  by  Lajaren  A.  Hiller 

The  romance  of  theson  of  "The  Riverman."  The  young  college 
hero  goes  into  the  lumber  camp,  is  antagonized  by  "graft"  and  comes 
into  the  romance  of  his  life. 
ARIZONA  NIGHTS.  Illus.  and  cover  inlay  by  N.  C.  Wyeth. 

A  series  of  spirited  tales  emphasizing  some  phases  of  the  life 
of  the  ranch,  plains  and  desert.    A  masterpiece. 
THE  BLAZED    TRAIL.  "With  illustiations  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

A  wholesome  story  with  gleams  of  humor,  telling  of  a  young 
man  who  blazed  his  way  to  fortune  through  the  heart  of  the  Mich- 
igan pines. 
THE  CLAIM  JUMPERS.    A  Romance. 

The  tenderfoot  manager  of  a  mine  in  a  lonesome  gulch  of  the 
Black  Hills  has  a  hard  time  of  it,  but  "wins  out"  in  more  ways  than 
one. 
CONJUROR'S     HOUSE.    Illustrated  Theatrical  Edition. 

Dramatized  under   the     title   of  "The   Call  of    the   North.'* 

"Conjuror's  House  is  a  Hudson  Bay  trading  post  where  the 
head  factor  is  the  absolute  lord.    A  young  fellow  risked  his  life  and 
won  a  bride  on  this  forbidden  land. 
THE  MAGIC   FOREST.    A  Modem  Fairy  Tale.    Illustrated. 

The  sympathetic  way  in  which  the  children  of  the  wild  and 
their  life  is  treated  could  only  belong  to  one  who  is  in  love  with  the 
forest  and  open  air.    Based  on  fact. 
THE  RIVERMAN.    Illus.  by  N.  C.  Wyeth  and  C.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  man's  fight  against  a  river  and  of  a  struggle 
between  honesty  and  grit  on  the  one  side,  and  dishonesty  and 
shrewdness  on  the  other. 
THE  SILENT  PLACES.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin. 

The  wonders  of  the  northern  forests,  the  heights  of  feminine 
devotion,  and  masculine  power,  the  intelligence  of  the   Caucasian 
and  the  instinct  of  the  Indian,  are  all  finely  drawn  in  this  story. 
THE  WESTERNERS. 

A  story  of  the  Black  Hills  that  is  justly  placed  among  the 
best  American  hovels.  It  portrays  the  life  of  the  new  West  as  no 
other  book  has  done  in  recent  years. 

THE    MYSTERY.  In  collaboration  with  Samuel  Hopkins  Adams 
With  illustrations  by  Will  Crawford. 

The  disappearance  of  three  successive  crews  from  the  stont 
ship  '"Laughing  Lass"  in  mid-Pacific,  is  a  mystery  weird  and  inscrut- 
able. In  the  solution,  there  is  a  story  of  the  most  exciting  voyage 
that  man  ever  undertook. 

Grosset  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


B.  M.  Bower's  Novels 

Thrilling  Western  Romances 

Large  12  mos.  Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.     Illustrated 

CHIP,  OF  THE  FLYING  U 

A  breezy  wholesome  tale,  wherem  the  love  afEsurs  of  Chip  and 
Delia    V/hitman  are  charmingly  and    humorously   told.     Chip's ' 
jealousy  of  Dr.  Cecil  Grantham,  who  turns  out  to  be  a  big.  blua 
eyed  young  woman  is  very  amusing.    A  clever,  realistic  story  of 
the  American  Covr-puncher. 

THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 

A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with  the  adventures  of 
eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana  cowboys.  Foremost  amcn^^st 
them,  we  find  Ananias  Green,  known  as  Andy,  whose  imaginative 
powers  cause  icany  lively  and  exciting  adventures. 

HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

A  realistic  story  of  the  plains,  describing  a  gay  party  of  Eas- 
terners who  exchanne  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  the  roun:h  homeli- 
ressof  a  Montana  ranch-house.  The  merry-hearted  cowboys,  the 
fascinating  Beatrice,  and  Ihe  efi^osive  Six  Kedmond,  become  livings 
breathing  personalities. 
THE  RANGE  DV/ELLERS 

Here  ar©  everyday,  genuine  cowbo3rs,  just  as  they  really  exist 
Spirited  action,  a  ranpe  feud  between  two  families,  and  a  Roraeo 
and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  bright,  jolly,  entertaining  story, 
without  a  dull  pagOa 
;/KE   LURE  OF  DIM  TRAILS 

A  vivid  porirayal  of  the  expciience  of  an  Eastern  author, 
among  the  covirboys  of  the  West,  in  sccirch  of  "local  color"  for  a 
new  novel.  "Bud"  Thurston  learns  many  a  lesson  v»hile  following 
*'the  lure  of  the  dim  trails"  bat  the  hardest,  and  probably  the  most 
vrelcome,  is  that  of  love. 
THE  LONESOME  TRAIL 

"Weary"  Davidson  leaves  the  ranch  for  Portland,  where  con« 
ventional  city  life  palla  on  him,  A  littlo  branch  of  sage  brush, 
pungent  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  prairie,  and  the  recollection  of 
a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  soon  compel  his  retani.  A  wholesome 
love  story, 

THE  LONG  SHADOW. 

A  vigorous  'V\restem  story,  sparklinjf  witTi-  the  free,  outdoor, 
$fe  of  a  mount^n  ranch.  Its  scenes  shift  rapidly  and  its  actors  play 
the  game  of  life  fearlessly  and  like  men.  It  is  a  fine  love  story  from 
start  to  finish. 

I  .  .  -■  ■,      '     ■      ■  .'.a 

Ask  for  a  complete  free  list  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction. 

Grosset  &  DuNLAP,  526  Wkt  26tii  St.,  New  York 


KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGINGS 
STORIES   OF  PURE   DELIGHT 

Full   of   originality   and    humor,    kindliness   and  cheer 

•  THE  OLD  PEABODY  PEW.    Large  Octavo.    Decorative 

text  pages,  printed  in  two  colors.    Illustrations  by  Aiic«  ' 

Barber  Stephens. 

One  of  the  prettiest  romances  that  has  ever  come  from  this 
author's  pen  is  made  to  bloom  on  Christmas  Eve  in  the  sweet 
freshness  of  an  old  New  England  meeting  house. 

PENELOPE'S  PROGRESS.    Attractive  cover  design  ia 

colors. 

Scotland  is  the  background  for  the  merry  doings  of  three  very 
clever  and  original  American  girls.  Their  adventures  in  adjusting 
themselves  to  the  Scot  and  his  land  are  full  of  humor. 

PENELOPE'S  IRISH  EXPERIENCES.  Uniform  in  style 

with  "Penelope's  Progress." 

The  trio  of  clever  girls  who  rambled  over  Scotland  cross  the  bor- 
der to  the  Emerald  Isle,  and  again  they  sharpen  their  wits  against 
new  conditions,  and  revel  in  the  land  of  laughter  and  wit. 

REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK  FARM. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  studies  of  childhood — Rebecca's  artis- 
tic, unusual  and  quaintly  charming  qualities  stand  cut  midst  a  circle 
of  austere  New  Englanders.  The  stage  version  is  making  a  phe- 
taomenal  dramatic  record. 

NEW  CHRONICLES  OF  REBECCA.  With  illustrations 

by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

Some  more  quaintly  amusing  chronicles  that  carry  Rebeccff 
•farough  various  stages  to  her  eighteenth  birthday. 

ROSE   O'  THE  RIVER.     With  illustrations  by  Georg< 

Wright. 

The  simple  story  of  Rose,  a  country  girl  and  Stephen  a  sturdy 
young  farmer,  The  girl's  fancy  for  a  city  man  interrupts  their  love 
and  merges  the  story  into  an  emotional  strain  where  the  reader  fol- 
lows the  events  with  rapt  attention. 

Grosset  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  26th  St.,  New  York 


LOUIS  TRACY'S 

CAPTIVATING  AND  EXHILARATING  ROMANCES 

. „ 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grosset  k  Duntap't  Nst 

■r- .  i-a 

CYNTHIA'S     CHAUFFEUR.  Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandle 

»       Christy. 

A  pretty  American  girl  in  London  is  touring  in  a  car  wifi 
'^  chaufEeur  whose  identity  puzzles  her.    An  amusing  mystery. 

THE    STOWAWAY    GIRL.     Illustrated  by  Nesbitt  Benscss, 

A  shipwreck,  a  lovely  girl  stowaway,  a  rascally  captain.  & 
iascinating  officer,  and  thrilling  adventures  in  South  Seas. 

THE  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  KANSAS. 

Love  and  the  salt  sea,  a  helpless  ship  whirled  into  the  haniilS 
;>{  cannibals,  desperate  fighting  and  a  tender  romance. 

THE     MESSAGE.    Illustrated  by  Joseph  Cummings  Chasa 

A  bi*.  of  parchment  found  in  the  figurehead  of  an  old  ve»- 
4el  tells  of  a  buried  treasure.    A  thrilling  mystery  develops. 

THE  PILLAR  OF  LIGHT. 

The  pUlar  thus  designated  was  a  lighthouse,  and  the  author 
tells  with  exciting  detail   the  terhble  dilemma   of  its  cut-ofi  in* 

habitants. 

THE    WHEEL   O'FORTUNE.     With  illustrations   by  Jamee 
Montgomery  Flagg. 
The   story  deals    with  the  finding  of  a  papyrus  containiag 
(the  particulars  of  some  of  the  treasures  of  the  Queetx  of  Sheba. 

A   SON  OF   THE  IMMORTALS.      Illusttated     by  Howard 
Chandler  Christy. 
A  yonn?  American  is   proclaimed   king  of  a  little  Balkan 
Kingdom,  £.nd  a  pretty  Parisian  art  student  is  the  power  behind 
the  throne. 

THE    WTITGS    OF  THE  MORNING. 

A  sort  of  Robinson  Crusoe  rediz'tfus  with  modem  settings 
Iftnd  a  very  pretty  love  story  added.  The  hero  and  heroine,  art 
Ihe  only  survivors  of  a  wreck,  and  have  many  thrDling  adventures 
im  their  desert  island. 

lAsi  for  complete  fret  list  of  G.  ^  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 


CiRossET  &  DuNLAP,  526  West  2bth  St.,  New  Yort 


mr  '»     im  imm 


A     000  126  830     9 


R'CHMnm. 


